


Seventh

by Child_of_Athena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_of_Athena/pseuds/Child_of_Athena
Summary: In 1981, just a few months before You-Know-Who's downfall. Death Eaters attacked the Burrow. They destroyed the house and kidnapped three year old George Weasley.Years later, George is alone with no memory of his family. He has no idea that magic exists, or that somewhere out there are people who love him. Meanwhile Fred is the only one who still believes his brother is alive. He can feel it in his twin-tuition.Two brothers, identical in mind, body, and soul live miserably thousands of miles apart. Until one day, when one fateful letter brings them back together.
Relationships: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley, Fred Weasley & George Weasley
Comments: 29
Kudos: 37





	1. Separation

Saturday 07 June, 1981, 7:01 pm  
Ottery St. Catchpole, United Kingdom

The Weasley family always stood out, wherever they went. After all, a family with six children and another on the way isn't something you see in Britain. It was due in part to that fact that they were usually content to remain at home, doing their shopping in wizarding locations and whatnot. In recent times, however, the Weasleys' desire to remain home was probably because of the ongoing war against He Who Must Not Be Named. 

Molly and Arthur were both members of the Order of the Phoenix, so they did their best to avoid frequenting Diagon Alley or other such places. Especially with the children. This meant that Molly had begun to do her shopping in the village. Bringing all six of her sons everywhere she went proved to be a bother, so she employed the help of her magical neighbor, Pandora Lovegood. Pandora was a good natured young woman, and she had taken to the task of babysitting cheerfully. Both women also found comfort in each other, as they became pregnant at nearly the same time. 

Because yes, Molly Weasley was in fact pregnant, for the sixth time in just over a decade. As Molly walked down main street, some of the village women shot her shocked and judging looks. She supposed they did look a little odd. 

Bill, the eldest Weasley at nine years old, led the way into the village. He was tired of being cooped up with his younger brothers and was definitely the most excited for this outing. All of the boys had been begging to go to the fair for weeks, and tonight, the tired parents had finally agreed. 

Right beside Bill and chattering amicably with him was Charlie. He was ten months younger than his older brother but seemed a lot younger because he was rather short. His bright red hair, a Weasley trademark, fluttered in the wind. Molly realised her second son was in desperate need of a good haircut.

Three year old Fred walked in between Bill and Charlie, holding both their hands as he looked delighted at his surroundings. It was odd to see Fred without his twin, but George had nearly blown up the house earlier that day (and he admitted to having done it on purpose) so he was staying home with Pandora as punishment.  
Poor little Percy walked a few paces behind his brothers. The five year old was Molly's quietest child by far, and seemed to be suffering from middle child syndrome. Bill and Charlie were very close, Fred and George were inseparable, and soon Ron would have the new baby. Percy was stuck in the middle. 

Ron was nestled in Arthur's arms, hardly more than a baby himself. He seemed to be enjoying himself for the moment, but as he hadn't taken a nap that day, Molly knew he would be asleep before long.

Molly rubbed her swollen belly and smiled. The new baby was due any day know, and then she and Arthur would have enough children for their own personal quidditch team. She laughed at the thought.

"What's so funny?" Arthur asked. 

" Nothing, " Molly waved him off. But then she shared the joke with Arthur anyway. He laughed, a real genuine laugh. It was good to see Arthur laugh. He had been so busy lately, so worried. The ministry kept him working odd hours and the Order wasn't exactly a leisurely business. The lines under his eyes were accentuated by the harsh light of a nearby streetlamp.

But somehow not even the looming, ever present threat of You-Know-Who and his death eaters could quench the infectious happiness surrounding them. A sea of smiling faces.

Bill and Charlie spotted some of their muggle friends and ran to join them. With a little encouragement from Arthur, Percy followed. Fred came running back, pointing gleefully to a muggle street magician. He took Molly's hand and began to drag her in that direction. 

Then Molly saw a face she would never have expected to see in the village. Xenophilious Lovegood appeared out of nowhere and began looking around frantically. Molly immediately knew something was off. Xenophilious never left home when it was nearly time to publish another edition of the Quibbler. One glance at Arthur told Molly that he felt the same way. 

She raised one hand in a wave. "Xenophilious!"

He looked startled at first to hear his name, but when he saw Molly and Arthur, he strode quickly over to them. He was pale and sweaty. "Pandora sent up sparks," Xenophilious gasped, "Death Eaters... the Burrow... had to come... find you."

With all the dexterity of a man whose home is threatened, Arthur sprung into action. He shoved Ron into Molly's arms and yanked her, Xenophilious, and Fred behind a carnival tent, where they would be out of sight. Then he waved his wand and sent a silvery weasel out the tip.

"There. I've alerted the Order." He said. " Xenophilious, come with me. We'll try to distract the Death Eaters before they breach the protective barrier and harm George or Pandora. " Arthur turned to Molly, addressing her. "Take the boys and get them somewhere safe. Your auntie Muriel's, perhaps. I'll alert you when it's safe to come home, but you may have to stay the night. "

"But, Arthur-" Molly began.

He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Molly. I know you want to go help. But I can't have you dueling in this condition. It won't be just your life you're risking."

She agreed, for the sake of her unborn child. Arthur and Xenophilious turned on the spot and vanished. Then Molly felt Fred tugging on her shirt. She looked down at him.

"Mummy," said Fred, "what's wong?" 

Molly sighed. Free was only three, and he didn't really understand the meaning of the words his parents had exchanged. But he could tell from their expressions and the tone of their voices that something was wrong. And he was worried. 

"Daddy had to help Xenophilious with something important." Molly said after a moment. She hefted Ron into her other hip and held out her hand. "Come on, let's go and find your brothers."

Fred took his mother's hand. "Where we going?"

" we're going to auntie Muriel's for a sleepover. " Molly tried for a smile. "Won't that be fun?"

"George?" Fred asked. 

Ron suddenly began to cry. When Molly had calmed him down, she turned to Fred to answer. She found she didn't have an answer. "Oh, Arthur," Molly whispered, " please save our son. "

Sunday 08 June, 1981, 10:34 am  
Laggan, United Kingdom 

The home of Muriel Bethany MacAllister, while quite safe and comfortable, was simply not meant to contain five rowdy boys. That fact quickly became evident to Molly as she once again heard the tinkle of China breaking, followed by several voices shouting over each other.  
"Mum!" someone called. Molly groaned. She really didn't want to get up again. "MUM!!!" yelled the same boy again. She was pretty sure that was Percy. He was the quietest Weasley, except when he was tattling on his brothers. That kid could whine! 

Molly was just about to get up when Percy burst into the room. "Mum!" He said, " Its Fred's fault, it's Fred's fault! I didn't do anything, and I -"

And then Fred was there too, yelling over Percy. "Mum! Percy breaked a big shiny thing full of flowers!"

Percy looked outraged. "No I didn't!"

" yes you did! " Fred yelled.

"No I didn't!" 

" Yes you did! "

"No I-"

"Silencio!" Molly cried, silencing both boys with a flick of her wand. " Now, " she said, "why don't you tell me, one at a time, what happened."

She raised her wand and removed the charm, but before either boy could speak, Bill stormed into the sitting room carrying Ron, who looked like he had been crying. Charlie was close behind. He glared at Fred. "Yes, Freddie," Charlie said, "why don't you tell mum what you did!"

" Percy breaked a flower thingie. " said Fred.

"No I-" Percy began to defend himself, but Molly cut across him. 

"I don't care what Percy did," she said sternly, " I want to know what you did, Freddie. "

Fred crossed his chubby little arms and clamped his lips shut tight. He glared at his mother as if to say, "I won't say a word."

Charlie, however, was more than willing to explain the situation. "Fred found a huge spider in the flowerbed - almost as big as his hand - and he put it on Ron's head," Charlie said, " and so then Ron started crying and he swatted the spider with his hand and it flew on Percy and then Percy screamed like a girl-"

"Did not!" Exclaimed Percy.

" you did too! I was there, I should know. " said Bill.

Charlie continued as if there had been no interruption. "Then Fred started laughing - I mean, it was pretty funny - and Percy got mad because the spider was Fred's fault so he started chasing Fred. I would have followed them but I didn't want to leave Ron. And then Percy chased Fred inside even though you told us not to, and-"

"That's why auntie Muriel's vase is broken." Bill finished.

Percy began to cry.

"Percy, don't cry." Said Molly. " the vase can be fixed. " she took Ron from Charlie and walked into the hall, four boys following behind her like ducklings. She waved her wand at the vase, and the pieces reassembled themselves and floated back on to the end table. Molly turned back the boys. "You two," she said, pointing at Fred and Percy, "are in big-"

Molly froze. There, outside the sitting room window, where a moment before there had been nothing, was Arthur. And he was alone. 

"Oh, please no," Molly whispered.

Bill looked at his mother. "Mum?" He asked. " What's wrong? "

He didn't get an explanation. Molly hurried past her boys to the front door, thrusting it open in her hurry to get to her husband. Arthur still hadn't moved from the place he had apparated to. She ran up to him, her worried eyes begging for an answer to the question she was too afraid to ask. 

Arthur avoided making eye contact with his wife, not wanting to be the first to speak. 

"Well?" Molly said after a moment. "W-what happened?"

" Xeno and I held the Death Eaters off for a bit. " Arthur said. His voice was even, measured. "There were around a dozen of them. Nobody I recognized - nobody important. A few members of the Order showed up. Mad-eye. Remus. Sirius. Peter. Fabian. Frank and Alice. I was dueling with two at once. They drove me away from the house. " 

As Arthur spoke Charlie, Bill, Percy, and Fred came up behind their mother, listening with wide eyes.

"I didn't realize how fragile the barrier was. If I had known, I never would've..." Arthur's voice shook, and he stopped for a moment. When he spoke again he couldn't help but let some of the emotion into of his voice. "I never would've... would've... strayed away from the, from the house. Wh-wh-when the s-smoke cleared, the house was r-r-rubble." At this, Arthur burst into sobs. 

it was nearly a full minute before he could speak again. "Pandora was... I don't know. In a c-c-coma or some-something. Xeno saved the baby, but now she's, sh-sh-she's, well, she's dead. And G-georgie isn't, I hope, but he's, he's, he's g-g-gone! They t-took him!" Tears leaked out of Arthur again, and this time he didn't try to stop them.

Molly leaned into her husband's side, tears flowing freely. Ron began to cry because his parents were crying. Bill and Charlie hugged each other as they sobbed, mourning their favorite babysitter and their little brother. Percy was already crying from earlier, so he just cried harder when he saw that everyone else was crying.

Fred just stood there. He watched his brothers and his parents cry, not really understanding why. He knew something had had happened, something that had to do with George, he just didn't know what. Poor little Fred was only three years old- he had no way of knowing that nothing would ever be the same.

Wednesday 15 July, 1981, 11:20 pm  
Texas, United States of America

He was flying. He laughed to think how the muggles below would react if they saw him. He was a fearsome Death Eater. He didn't care about breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. All he could think about was how unlucky he was. 

It wasn't his fault that the kid, despite a fully obliviated memory, didn't like the idea of being a Death Eater. It wasn't his fault the kid had run away and nearly exposed them. And yet, despite all that, he was the unlucky guy who had to get rid of the now unwanted kid.

He swooped low over a bright muggle city. His sharp eyes spotted a dark patch- a park. He landed next to a bench and deposited the unconscious child upon it. He drew his wand and pointed it at the unwanted package, mustering his courage. Then he stopped. The kid looked so innocent there. He couldn't kill something so innocent. 

So he climbed on to his broomstick and shot away from the ground. He was an excellent liar. No one ever needed to know that he hadn't killed the kid like he was supposed to.

Thursday 16 July, 1981, 2:43 am  
Houston, Texas, United States of America

On the above date, a small boy was found asleep in a park in the above location, in the middle of the night. The boy had unkempt red hair, blue eyes, and freckles. The boy was taken to a police station. When he awoke, he was kindly, but firmly, questioned. He didn't have any idea who he was, or where he was. 

No one knew who the boy was, how he had gotten to the park, or where he came from. He didn't seem to be a U.S. Citizen. The boy was given a name, Emmett, and placed into foster care. 

So there he grew up, not knowing about the world of magic, or the family who cares so deeply about him and missed him more than words can say.


	2. Wish

Friday 01 April, 1988, 3:57 pm (C.U.T.)  
Ottery St. Catchpole, United Kingdom

Seven.

Supposedly, seven is the most highly magical number. Doing things in seven parts or seven steps gives them extra power. Seven is, well, a lucky number. 

It's the number of players on a Qudditch team, the number of years in the Minister of Magic's term, and the number of years a witch or wizard goes to school. It's been the address of Ollivander's wand shop for centuries, and it's the number of times Albus Dumbledore has been asked to join the Ministry. It's the age by which magical power manifests and the age at which a unicorn becomes fully mature. It's the number of decades it took Bathilda Bagshot to write A History of Magic, the amount of years spent perfecting the Nimbus 2000 racing broom, and the number of weeks in a Kwikspell course.

Incidentally, seven is also the number of months that Molly and Arthur Weasley courted before becoming engaged. Seven was the number of Weasley children. Seven is the number of years it's been since George Weasley was kidnapped by Death Eaters.

These thoughts blurred through Molly's head as she sat at the kitchen table. In her hands was a cup of tea that had grown cold some time ago. She knew she had to have Fred's birthday dinner ready by the time Arthur got home, but she was too melancholy to do much more than sit and think. Thinking about George was how she had ended up melancholy in the first place, so she tried to think of something else, anything else. 

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Molly was still adjusting to the fact that Percy had gone off to Hogwarts in September, still getting used to the idea of having half her children away at school. 

Ron and Ginny were playing outside. A third child had joined them about an hour ago: Luna, the only child of Xenophilious and Pandora Lovegood, and a good friend of Molly's two youngest children.

As for Fred, well, Molly hadn't seen him in hours. Then something occurred to her. If she was feeling melancholy, that was nothing compared to how Fred must be feeling. Suddenly feeling quite foolish, Molly put down her untouched tea and made her way to the stairs. The Weasleys had rebuilt their home to have five stories, with two bedrooms per story except for the fifth which was Ron's alone.

Fred's bedroom was on the fourth floor. As Molly came up the stairs, she saw that Fred was kneeling on the floor, partly facing away from her. In front of him was a glazed crescent roll (so that is where that had gone) stuck full of ten stubs of birthday candles. The tops of the candles promptly burst into flames, and Molly had to stifle a gasp. It soon became clear that this was what Fred had wanted, as he visibly relaxed when the flames lit up his bedroom. 

And then, much to Molly's surprise, Fred began to sing. "Happy Birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Fred..." He paused for a moment. " ...and George. Happy birthday to you. " Fred blew out all ten candles with a single breath. "I wish," He said, " I wish that George is out there somewhere, and that he will come home. Please... Please... Please... "

It was too much for Molly. Tears streamed down her face as she knocked gently on the door frame. Fred jumped and whirled around. His eyes were red and puffy.

"Mum!" Fred exclaimed. "I, er..."

" Oh, Freddie, " said Molly, sitting on the floor next to her son, "you didn't think we'd forgotten about your birthday, did you?"

" No, " Fred said after a moment, "I know dad has to work and stuff. I just, well, I thought that maybe wherever George is, maybe someone forgot about his birthday, so I would sing for him just in case. I didn't want to do it during the big celebration, because I was afraid everyone would laugh."

" I would never laugh, " Molly said. Fred leaned into her embrace and she ran her fingers gently through his hair. Molly didn't like it but she, like most of the rest of her family, had reluctantly come to accept that there was just no possible way that George could be alive. Only Fred clung to a desperate hope that his twin was still out there, hidden away in some obscure town in some obscure country, somewhere in the world. 

"How long were you out there?" Fred asked.

"Only a minute or two," said Molly.

" That's been my birthday wish every year, " said Fred. He elaborated when his mother looked confused. "Every year since George was taken, I've wished that he will come home. I thought it might happen when we turned seven, because that's the most magical number, but..." He shrugged sadly. "nothing. I really hope it works this year, because this year is the last year that I can hope."

" And why is that? " Molly asked.

"Well," said Fred, " Its because, well... Every year, each eligible magical kid in the world gets a letter telling them to come to a magic school. Next year, I'll get my letter to Hogwarts. I'm hoping that it Fred is alive- and he is, I know he is- he'll get his letter and come to school. If he's not at Hogwarts, I'll have to accept that he's, he's, he's d-d-dead! "

Fred burst into tears. He looked up at his mother. "I just r-r-r-really m-miss him!" He sobbed.

Molly hugged her son closer to her. "I miss George too, Freddie. I miss him too."

Friday April 1, 1988, 12:10 pm (central time zone)  
Houston, Texas, United States of America

Emmett sat on the hard wooden chair across the desk from Principal Baker. He stared at his feet, refusing to meet the man's eyes. The door to the office burst open and in came Emmett's foster mom, Kate. She was a petite blond woman, carrying a large purse and with large pursed lips. 

Kate extended a hand to shake Principal Baker's. "So sorry I'm late, sir," she said, "I was at the grocery store on the other side of town. Please tell me, what exactly am I doing here?"

Principal Baker cleared his throat. "Emmett played a very nasty prank on one of his classmates." He paused for a moment to let Kate register his words, then continued. "Would you like to tell us what you did, Emmett?" 

Emmett huffed. He looked back and forth between Kate and the principal, both of whom were looking at him expectantly. When it became clear that neither of them was going to talk until he did, he explained. "I waited until Eric Derkins went to the bathroom, and then I squirted super glue all over his chair." Emmett found himself grinning. "When he came back and sat down, his pants got glued to the seat. Then it was Eric's turn to write on the chalkboard, and he went up there with the chair stuck to his butt!!" 

There was mirth in both adults' eyes, though they tried to hide it with looks of disapproval. "Emmett," said Principal Baker, "I want you to understand that what you did was so wrong. Funny, but wrong."

"Yes, sir," said Emmett with a sigh.

Five minutes later, Emmett was standing outside the front office of Oasis Elementary with Kate. "I just don't understand it, kiddo," She said, "why did you do it? How could you be so mean to that poor boy?"

She wanted an explanation? Okay. "Its April Fool's Day. I can't not play at least one prank on April Fool's Day." Emmett said. " That's literally the whole point of the holiday. And Eric Derkins is a bully. Someone has to remind him that he doesn't own this school. "

"What you did to Eric could be considered bullying, you know." Kate said. 

Emmett hadn't thought of that. "Oops," he shrugged. There was another reason he had gotten in trouble, but if he told Kate, that would defeat the purpose. 

Kate sighed. "Well, that's all I have to say to you. Get to class."

" Okay, " Emmett said. Kate turned and walked away. He watched her retreating back for a moment and glanced at his watch. There were still eleven and a half hours left of his birthday. Maybe she would realize that she had forgotten again. Maybe she would remember that he was ten years old today. Maybe this year would be different. 

He knew it was silly to keep hoping. Three times in the last week he had reminded Kate of his coming birthday. All he wanted was some new shoes and a magic kit. And a birthday cake, for once. It would only take thirty dollars to grant Emmett's birthday wishes, but apparently even that was too much to ask. 

Emmett returned to his classroom where the teacher, Mr. Dart, told him to apologize to Eric and to the class. He looked at Eric, who had gotten a new chair and a new pair of pants. "Eric," Emmett said with the straightest face he could manage, "I'm sorry for glueing your butt to your chair."

Twenty-three fourth graders roared with laughter. The large boy in The seat in front of Emmett's glared at him. Emmett continued. "I really feel bad for the chair, though. It's probably really offended that you didn't consider it an improvement to your current outfit. "

More laughter.

Mr. Dart was looking angry, so Emmett decided to finish up. "I'll also apologize to my classmates, for causing a disruption that gave them a little entertainment in what was otherwise a very dull lesson."

Several members of the class snickered, while the others did their best to hide wide grins. Mr. Dart was infamous and Oasis Elementary for his long lectures and mind numbingly boring lessons. He was also very, very strict.

"Mr. Stevens," said Mr. Dart, glaring at Emmett, "would you like to pay another visit to the principal's office today?"

The grin slid off Emmett's face. "No, Mr. Dart." He said.

" Then kindly take your seat. If you interrupt my class again, there will be... Consequences. "

Once the class had slipped into a stupor from Mr. Dart's droning lecture. Emmett's best friend Summer leaned over to him. Summer had long blond hair, blue eyes, and a deep tan.

"Psst. Emmett!" She hissed. "How'd it go?"

" Terrible, " he whispered back, "Baker gave me two weeks of after school detention."

Summer made an apologetic face. "That sucks. But I meant with Kate. Did it work?"

" No, " Emmett said quietly, "she still has no idea that anything remotely important is happening today. Nobody ever remembers my birthday. "

"I did," Summer pointed out. And she had. That morning Summer had presented Emmett with a pack of playing cards and a book of magic tricks. 

Emmett smiled. "That's why you're my best friend. " he said. They had to stop talking after that when Mr.Dart shushed them.

Friday April 1, 1988, 2:54 pm (central time zone)  
Houston, Texas, United States of America

The twenty-four students in Mr. Dart's fourth grade class were seated at their desks, waiting to see if their teacher found the classroom clean enough. He nodded and said, "go and line up by the door, class."

There was an explosion of noise as each student tried to be the closest to the door.

"Wait!" Cried Mary, a round girl with piggy eyes. "Today is Emmett's birthday!" Of course, Emmett knew full well that Mary only kept track of everyone's birthdays because she loved it when kids brought treats. 

Mr. Dart had the class sing "Happy Birthday" to Emmett. When they finished, Mary wanted to know whether they would be getting treats. Several other kids were clearly wondering the same thing. Emmett opened his mouth to tell them he hadn't brought treats, but Summer spoke before he could.

"Yep," she said, " Emmett does have birthday treats to share. " Summer pulled two packages of Birthday Cake Oreos out of her backpack, and she and Emmett distributed them to the class. "I know it's not as good as a real cake," she said, "but..." Summer handed him a third, unopened package.

Emmett lunged forward and hugged his best friend tightly. "Thank you, Summer," he said, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Happy Birthday, Emmett."

Friday April 1, 1988, 9:38 pm (central time zone)  
Houston, Texas, United States of America

Emmett sat miserably on his creaky old bed. His sixteen year old foster brother Tristan, with whom he shared a room, was out with friends and wouldn't be back for several hours. For now, he had the small room to himself.

The smudged window gave Emmett a fascinating view of rows and rows of identical suburbs. It was in these and other similar Texan suburbs that he had spent most of his life; never belonging, never quite fitting in. Fitting in! Ha! Emmett laughed to himself. How could he ever fit in? Because weird things seemed to happen when Emmett was around. Like the time a few months ago when Eric Derkins' backpack exploded while he was bullying Summer. Or the time when he was seven, when a dog had been chasing him and he somehow ended up on the roof of his neighbor's two story house.

No matter how much Emmett said these things were accidents or claimed he hadn't done them, the fact that they had happened was not erased. The "incidents" got him labeled as a freak, a weirdo, a misfit. Friends like Summer were rare. So Emmett coped by playing pranks and goofing off, becoming the class clown so that other kids couldn't help but like him.

But humor can only get you so far. 

Emmett rummaged in his backpack and pulled out the package of Oreos Summer had given him. He ripped it open and pulled out one of the cookies. 'Its not a birthday cake,' Emmett thought, 'but it is something.' He held up the cookie and began to sing softly to himself. "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear Emmett, happy birthday to me."

The Oreo, of course, didn't have any candles on it. But Emmett mimicked blowing them out anyway. He looked out the window at the stars, twinkling down at him. "I wish," he said, "I wish that I have a family out there somewhere, and that I can go home to them. Please... Please... Please..."

And for just a moment, Emmett could have sworn he heard a voice much like his, echoing down from the stars and wishing him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not totally sure what Great Britain's time zone is, but I wanted to differentiate between the two locations.
> 
> In case it's unclear, Emmett is actually George, he just doesn't know it.
> 
> I appreciate any and all feedback, positive or negative. Really, I love hearing from my readers.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are love!!!


	3. Hope

Sunday 25 December, 1988, 1:13 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St. Catchpole, United Kingdom

Wishhhh.

Thunk.

Wishhhh.

Thunk.

Fred threw a rubber ball into the air and caught it. Steadily. Methodically.

Wishhhh.

Thunk.

Wishhhh.

WHAM!

The ball ricocheted off the ceiling of Fred's bedroom. It knocked into the lamp on his dresser and bounced around until it stopped in a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. Fred made no effort to retrieve it. Instead he lay on his back on his bed, where he'd been for the last hour at least, enjoying the rare silence of the Burrow.

It was Christmas Day. Fred knew he should be enjoying himself, should be enjoying having his older brothers home from school. But he just... couldn't. Not when he knew this was the eighth Christmas he had to spend away from his twin, and the eighth Christmas that George had to spend away from their family. Specifically, Fred and George had been apart for seven years, six months, two weeks, and three days. Fred would have counted the hours too, but nobody knew exactly when the family had gone to the fair and left George behind, only that it was sometime in the evening. 

Of course, it was silly to count the days he had been apart from a twin he barely remembered, but Fred couldn't help it. Even though his memories of his missing brother had all but faded, he couldn't help feeling like part of him was missing. Like he wouldn't be complete until George came home. And George would come home. Everyone else had given up, but Fred clung to his last strand of hope.

Hope he wouldn't be able to cling to for much longer. 

Sometime in the next few months, an owl would come to the Burrow with a letter for Fred, accepting him to Hogwarts. Hopefully George, wherever he was, would get a letter too. Fred had to hope he would. He had to hope that his twin would get his letter. Because if George wasn't at Hogwarts...

If George wasn't at Hogwarts...

If George wasn't at Hogwarts, Fred's last shred of hope would be gone. Because no student was ever skipped. Ever. 

If George wasn't at Hogwarts, that meant he was gone forever. For real. No more George. No more hope. Zero. Zip. Nada. Nil. Non. Nothing.

Fred was melancholy because this was his last Christmas of hope. Next year, at this time, he would either be with George and having a jolly good time, or he'd be alone like he was now. Laying on the same stupid bed in the same stupid room, throwing the same stupid rubber ball at the same stupid ceiling.

A snowball smacked against the window. Fred ignored it. Several more followed. He knew if he tried to get his brothers to stop, they would try to get him to come outside, and he didn't want to do that. Sure, Fred liked Quidditch, just not now. He wanted to be alone, thank you very much, and he had made that clear.

no

"Fred!" Charlie had exclaimed, bursting into Fred's bedroom a few hours earlier. "Come outside with us, we're going to play Quidditch with Ron's new quaffle!"

Sure enough, Ron had been standing just behind Charlie, a dopey grin on his face as he clutched the bright scarlet ball. "Please?" He had said, "even Percy is coming!"

"No thanks," Fred had grouched, "I'm busy."

"Busy staring at the ceiling?" Bill had called from the landing below, "like you do every holiday?"

Fred had said nothing, knowing his eldest brother was right.u

Charlie had gotten down on his knees and positively begged. "Please, Freddie?" He'd said, "Please come outside just a little while? Ginny really wants to play, so if you won't we have to use dad to keep the sides even." He shuddered at the thought. 

"No."

" Please? I'll give you all my sweets from Christmas."

"No! "

"But-"

"NO!" Fred had blown up.

Percy had trumped up the stairs. "Oh, let him sulk."

Ron and Charlie had taken one last look at Fred before giving up and leaving. Fred had gotten up and slammed the door behind them. 

Another snowball. Fred sighed. They seemed to have gotten bored of Quidditch. He'd've liked to try out Ron's new quaffle, but not today. Today he was just too down in the dumps. Fred stated out the window and wondered if George liked Quidditch. Then he dismissed the thought. Of course he did. He had to. 

The thunk of a seventh snowball against the window reminded Fred of something. He got down on the floor and wiggled on his stomach under his bed. The wall back there was covered in thousands of tiny scratches. Fred grabbed his muggle pocket knife and used it to gouge another mark in the wall. He hadn't counted the marks in years, but he knew exactly how many there were. Two thousand seven hundred and fifty four, each one representing a day. He hadn't actually started marking the wall until he was seven, exactly four years after George was taken, but he knew somehow, that was the number of days.

Staring at the tiny scratches, he wondered if George was counting too.

Sunday January 25, 1988, 11:09 pm (central time)  
Houston, Texas, United States of America

The radio was playing Christmas carols, turned up loud enough that Emmett could hear it despite being in his bedroom with the door shut. He couldn't help but listen. 

"Silent night, holy night,"

Not quite. It would be much more quiet if everyone would just go to sleep already.

"All is calm, all is bright."

But that wasn't right either. Emmett's foster siblings were shrieking and chasing each other around. He was half convinced Kate had fallen asleep. And it had been dreary and cloudy all day.

"Round young virgin mother and child."

Emmett wondered if his real mom was out there somewhere. He wondered if he had any siblings. He wondered if she was singing them a lullaby.

"Holy infant so tender and mild."

Surely Emmett had been a wonderful baby. Why had his real parents left him alone in a park in the middle of a city to deal with foster parents who had never once been tender or mild?

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

Well that's what he'd been trying to do for hours.

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

Emmett wondered if his real parents ever slept peacefully, knowing they had abandoned him. They probably did. The radio made static for a moment, then a new song blared on.

"We wish you a merry Christmas..."

Merry. Ha. When was Emmett's life ever merry? He wished the stupid radio would just turn off already. 

The song turned to static and the static turned to nothing. A few moments later, Kate yelled that the radio was broken, and told the other kids to go to bed. When Tristan came into the bedroom, Emmett rolled over and pretended to be asleep.

Tristan leaned down so his face was inches from Emmett's. "I know you turned off the radio, you little freak. I don't know how you did it, but you did."

The radio had turned off moments after Emmett wished it would do so, but that was just a coincidence, right? Emmett glared at the door as Tristan left to go to the bathroom. It slammed shut before the bigger boy had made it all the way out of the room, whacking him in the butt. Totally a coincidence. Tristan opened the door and slowly stepped back into the room, looking ready to murder Emmett.

Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can anyone tell me, please, why every time type "Fred" it autocorrect to "free"?


	4. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!

Wednesday 22 March, 1989, 9:44 am (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom

Hogwarts had many secret rooms. Many claimed to know them all, while others claimed that the school had too many secrets for one person to learn. Albus Dumbledore was among the latter. He believed that he could live at Hogwarts for a thousand years, and still not discover the full extent of its magic. The secret room in his office was proof of that.

It was called the letter room, and it only revealed itself to the current headmaster of Hogwarts. Inside was a quill that had been enchanted by the founders of the school. Each year, the ancient quill wrote a stack of letters, accepting children to learn magic at Hogwarts. Albus didn't know how the quill knew which children to write to. It just did. All he knew was that it never wrote to a nonmagical child, and it never skipped a magical one.

Albus stood in the secret room, watching the ancient enchanted quill scratching away at the parchment. On the table in the center of the room, first years' letters were in two piles. A larger one for students who already knew about magic and Hogwarts, and a smaller one for those who didn't. 

Each year there were roughly fifty first years, give or take a dozen. In Albus's year there had been sixty-eight. This year there were forty-two. The larger stack contained thirty-one letters, some of the surnames Albus recognized. Bell. Spinnet. Weasley.

A thought struck Albus like a bolt of lightning. Nearly eight years ago, the Weasleys had lost a three year old son, George. His twin, Fred, had his name in the larger stack. The headmaster's eyes strayed to the smaller pile of letters. The boy had never been confirmed dead. Albus sucked in his breath. Surely not...

Hands trembling, Albus grasped the eleven letters. Bailey, Colfer, Craven, Freeman, Hansen, Jordan, Mckay, Peterson, Sanchez, Tolan... And there it was. He gaped at the address on the last letter.

George Douglas Weasley  
The attic bedroom  
7312 Mackenzie Drive  
Springfield, Texas, United States of America

It couldn't be... And yet the quill never lied. You can't write letters to a dead person. Albus strode to his desk and pulled out his own quill and some parchment. He inked the quill and set it to the page, hand flying as he wrote. Dear Molly...

Wednesday 22 March, 1989, 4:32 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

The gnomes had overrun the garden again. It happened every month or two, and it drove Molly mad. The garden gnomes kept coming back because Arthur was just too soft with them. The Weasley family owned an expansive, overgrown garden full of fantastical magic plants, something no sensible gnome could resist. So, every now and then, there would be a de-gnoming. 

Today the Weasleys would be de-gnoming their garden. Maybe. If Ginny ever got downstairs, that is.

"Where is your sister?" Molly asked her two sons, exasperated. 

Nine year old Ron shrugged. Fred, who was nearly eleven, turned and yelled up the stairs. "Oi, Ginny! Where are you?"

There was no response. Fred turned back to Molly and shrugged. "I haven't the faintest, mum."

"Well," said Molly, "we'll just start without her then."

The two red haired boys darted for the door and out into the garden. Molly followed at a more leisurely pace, smiling. Fred and Ron had recently gotten their hair cut, and they looked almost civilized. Fred was wearing a purple sweater with an "F" on it that Molly had made him for Christmas. Ron had no sweater on, despite Molly's insistence he wear one, and wore a too-small Chudley Cannons T-shirt. 

To Molly, de-gnoming was a chore, a bothersome task. But her sons delighted in seeking out the little potato headed men and flinging them into the pasture with all their might. From the other side of the garden, Ron shrieked with joy.

"Fred, look!" He cried. "I found a massive one!"

Immediately, Fred went to see what his brother had found. "Whoa," he breathed, staring at the dirty, ugly little man clutched in Ron's hands, "it's nearly as big as Perce's head! Mum, come see the gnome Ron found!"

"I'm quite all right, thank you." Molly called back. She bent down and snatched a gnome just before it could scurry under a flower bush. After swinging the little creature in circles a few times, she flung it into the field beyond the garden. Ron and Fred laughed and shrieked as they competed to see who could throw their gnome the farthest.

Just as Molly was about to call out for Ginny to hurry up, the door to the Burrow opened and the youngest Weasley came out. She walked toward her mother as slowly as she could, her red hair braided to keep it from blowing everywhere. When she finally got to the garden, a gnome ran over her foot and she smiled. 

There were many different opinions about the garden gnomes in the Weasley household. Molly and Percy agreed that the creatures were disgusting and regarded removing them from the garden an awful chore. Arthur, Charlie, and Ginny thought they were sweet and pitied them, which was probably why the Weasleys had so many. Bill, Fred, and Ron treated de-gnoming as a sport, a competition, and thoroughly enjoyed it. George had loved chucking the gnomes over the hedge, though he never could get them to go very far. He probably would have joined in the sport...

Molly pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the task at hand, sending a garden gnomes flying. Ginny reluctantly joined in, apologizing to the creature before gently tossing it. The little man landed only a few meters past the hedge. After she had been working for several moments, Molly was distracted by a cry from her daughter.

Seven year old Ginny pointed up into the sky. "Look, mum," she said, "look, it's an owl!" Sure enough, a tawny colored owl was spiraling towards them from above. It landed on the hedge a few feet from Molly and stuck out its leg for her to take the letter. 

"That can't be my Hogwarts letter already, can it?" Fred asked, running over. " I mean, don't those usually come in the summer? "

"Percy's came in January," Ron pointed out. He dropped the gnome he had just caught and joined his mother and siblings.

Fred considered that. "So is it my Hogwarts letter?" he asked.

"No," Molly said, "it's from Professor Dumbledore. For me. "

Fred peered at the letter in Molly's hands. It had the Hogwarts seal on it as was addressed to Molly Weasley in slanted handwriting. "Why would Dumbledore want to write to you?" He wondered.

" Maybe he's writing to say you're too stupid to go to school, " Ron suggested.

"Oi!" Fred exclaimed. He tackled his younger brother to the ground and both boys began rolling around in the dirt. Ginny leapt out of the way to avoid them. For once, Molly didn't scold her fighting children. She opened the letter and read the surprisingly short message.

Dear Molly,  
Please join me in my office at eight o'clock tonight. Arthur and your children should come as well. I have an urgent matter to discuss that concerns all of you.  
Sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore  
P. S. I enjoy chocolate frogs.

Wednesday 22 March, 1989, 7:45 pm ( Coordinated Universal Time)  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom

And so it was that at a quarter till eight o'clock, Molly apparated to the front gate of Hogwarts with Ginny clinging to her arm. Arthur appeared with Ron, then disappeared again. A few moments later he was back with Fred beside him. 

The three Weasley children started up at the magnificent castle in awe. Ginny was fascinated by the winged boars flanking the entrance and the expansive grounds. Both boys were drawn by the Quidditch pitch just visible in the distance. Ron gaped at the intricately carved doors and the huge entry hall. Fred kept poking at portraits and suits of armor, and darting off to explore side passages. After he disappeared a third time, Molly and Arthur realized he was going to be quite a pain in the neck to everyone at Hogwarts. 

The family stopped in front of a large stone gargoyle. Arthur spoke to it, "chocolate frogs," he said. Fred was confused, until the gargoyle slid out of the way and revealed a spiral staircase leading upwards.

"A secret passage," Fred said in awe.

"Neat," breathed Ron.

The five Weasleys walked up the staircase to a door on the other side. Voices were coming through the door. Very familiar voices. Arthur raised his hand to knock, but Fred barged into the room before he could. 

Three red haired boys were already standing there. The other Weasleys; eighteen year old Bill, seventeen year old Charlie, and thirteen year old Percy. "...think that's why we're here." Bill was saying. He noticed Fred. "Oh, hey little brother."

Percy sniffed in a disapproving way and pushed his born rimmed glasses up his nose. "You oughtn't to barge in like that. It's really quite rude." He said pompously.

"Yeah, well," Charlie said, "nobody asked your opinion, Perce." 

"You're just mad because I said Dumbledore didn't call us to his office to commend you for your 'exceptional Quidditch skills.'" Percy said.

Charlie, who was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, colored slightly and opened his mouth to respond. At that precise moment, professor Dumbledore appeared from a doorway behind the desk. He took in the eight Weasleys before him and asked, "I'm sure you're all wondering why I have asked you here tonight."

"Its not 'cause Charlie's good at Quidditch, is it." Bill said. 

" No, " Professor Dumbledore smiled.

Charlie's face fell as his brothers laughed.

"Though he is quite good, that is not why I called you here today." Said Dumbledore.

"Well then why-" Fred started. His mother cut him off with a sharp look. 

Once he was sure that there would be no more interruptions, Dumbledore began to speak. "A thousand years or so ago, Hogwarts was founded by the four greatest witches and wizards of their time. Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. When they grew old, the four founders realized they needed to find a way to keep Hogwarts going after their deaths. Godric Gryffindor created the sorting hat, to place each student in the house he or she was the best fit for." He paused for a moment. "But I'm sure you knew all that. However, unbeknownst to most, the Hogwarts founders left another artifact behind.

"Rowena Ravenclaw enchanted a quill to leave behind. Each year in a secret location, the quill writes a letter to every young magical child who is to attend Hogwarts the following school year. The headmaster sends these letters off to their addressees, and visits the children who are unfamiliar with magic, so as to explain. This morning as I was looking over this year's letters, I discovered something most... unusual."

Dumbledore reached into his desk and pulled out a sheaf of parchment. He placed it on the desk in front of him. Fred crowded in with the rest of his family to read the writing on the parchment. What he saw shocked him.

George Douglas Weasley  
The attic bedroom  
7312 Mackenzie Drive  
Springfield, Texas, United States of America

Fred had been dreaming of this for years, hoping against hope that his twin was alive, despite everyone telling him it was impossible. Yet here it was. Written proof that he had been right all along. George was alive. Hot tears burned in Fred's eyes and a lump formed in his throat. 

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Percy broke the silence. "Impossible," he whispered.

"It can't be," said Molly softly.

Bill looked at his mother. "They don't write letters to dead people." He said.

"That's in-sen-si-tive," said Ron, carefully sounding out the word. 

"Nice Percy word, Ron," muttered Ginny. 

Charlie replied to Ron, "it's not insensitive to say he's dead if he isn't dead." he pointed out.

"What does it mean?" Arthur asked Dumbledore tentatively. 

"It means," Dumbledore said, "that your son is alive."

Fred let out a loud whoop of joy. He grabbed the letter off the desk and began dancing around the room. "He's alive! He's alive! He's alive!" He cried. "I told you so! I told you George wasn't dead! I knew he was out there somewhere! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! "

"Whoa there son, take it down a few notches." Arthur said, bringing Fred back to reality. His voice sounded rather stuffy. Fred realized his parents had tears in their eyes. Ron, Percy, and Ginny were beaming, and Bill's and Charlie's eyes were shining with happiness.

"Do we really need another Fred around? " asked Percy teasingly.

Fred ignored his older brother and turned to Dumbledore. "How soon can we get to..." He checked the envelope, "Texas?"

"With apparition, we could be there in minutes-" Dumbledore began.

"Well then, let's go!" Fred grabbed his father's arm and dragged him toward the door. "Let's go, let's go, LET'S GO! " 

Arthur yanked his arm out of his son's grasp. "We're not going anywhere just yet." He said.

"Why not?" Fred whined. "I want! To! See! My! Brother!"

"Frederick Michael Weasley!" Molly exclaimed. "Act your age! "

"But-" said Fred. Molly silenced him with a steely glare. "Sorry," he said quietly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to get their attention. "Mr. Weasley, I fully understand your excitement. However, we had best not mount a journey to America. Imagine how you would feel if eight overexcited people showed up on your doorstep and announced that they were your family." He paused for a moment to let his words sink in. "We don't want to overwhelm the poor boy."

Fred sighed. "I guess not," he said, "but when can we see him?"

"Easter holidays begin on Friday the thirty first of March." Dumbledore said after a moment. "Normally I don't get in contact with children who are unfamiliar with magic until the summer, but I think in this case I can make an exception. I can visit George in America sometime in the next nine days, and bring him home to you then."

"Nine days? " asked Fred. "Why can't you go now and bring him home tomorrow?"

"Your brothers will be home for the Easter Holidays, " Molly said, "this way we can all meet George at the same time." 

"I guess that's fair." Fred said. 

Soon after, Dumbledore dismissed them. The eight Weasleys made their way down staircase after staircase, pondering how soon a ninth would join them. When they got to the entrance hall, Bill, Charlie, and Percy headed upstairs to Gryffindor tower, while Molly, Arthur, Fred, Ron, and Ginny made their way through the front doors and down to the gates, where they apparated to the Burrow.

Just before the three children were to go to bed, Ginny looked at Fred. "I can't believe it," she said, "in nine days, there'll be two of you."

Laying in bed and staring at his ceiling, Fred pondered the events of that evening. Nine days. Technically only eight, since this one was basically over. Eight days until he could see George again. Fred didn't know if he would make it. 'I've waited for nearly eight years.' He thought. 'I suppose I can wait eight more days.' And with that thought, Fred rolled over and waited for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it wonderful! Soon they'll be back together again.


	5. Freak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a while since I posted!

Friday March 24, 1989, 12:15 pm (Central Time)  
Springfield, Texas, United States of America

The students of Mr. Weitzman's fifth grade class were having a very rowdy day. Josie Button got a black eye from Pedro Gonzalez at recess, paper airplanes and spitballs turned the classroom into a war zone, and the feeble old teacher did nothing to stop it. Perhaps because it was almost the weekend, or perhaps due to his exhaustion, Mr. Weitzman gave his students some "free time" after lunch to "get some energy out".

Free time. Or, in other words, "Pedro Gonzalez picks a victim to torment and everyone else tries to seem as nonexistent as possible" time. Ever since Emmett had moved to Springfield in January, he had been Pedro's favorite victim. Emmett hunched low over his desk, hoping to make himself unobtrusive.He tried to busy himself with nervously shuffling a pack of worn playing cards.

As soon as Mr. Weitzman was thoroughly engrossed in his newspaper, Pedro began strolling around the classroom, observing his classmates and choosing a victim. He knocked Emmett on the back of his head. "Hola tonto!" Pedro teased. "What you got there?"

"A pack of cards, duh," said Emmett, "what did you think it was, an elephant?"

Pedro glared at him. "You think you are so funny. But really you are just..." He paused as if trying to find the right word. "Un burro."

Some of the children in the class tittered nervously. Others looked puzzled by the Spanish. Emmett had heard this particular insult before, from his current foster mom. He squared his shoulders and stood up to his full height of four feet two inches, putting his eyes even with Pedro's large nose. 

"Yeah," he said, "I do think I'm pretty funny." He put his hands to his mouth and casually pulled half a deck of cards out of it, making vomiting noises as he did. Most of the other children stifled giggles.

"Awww," said Pedro, "look at the little burro, so clever with his card tricks. How about I show you some magic?" He picked up one of the cards from Emmett's desk. Emmett tried to take it back, but Pedro danced back holding it high in the air. "I'm going to make this card," Pedro ripped the playing card in half and let the pieces flutter to the floor. "Disappear!"

"Hey!" Emmett exclaimed. He tried to lunge for Pedro, but another boy held him back. Pedro grabbed another playing card and, holding it right in front of Emmett's face, slowly tore it right down the middle. For some reason, that infuriated Emmett. He didn't know why he was so angry- it wasn't like that deck of cards really mattered to him all that much- he supposed he was just sick of Pedro pushing him around. He saw red. And in the middle of that red was Pedro Gonzalez. 

Laughing, Pedro picked up another card as if to rip it up too. Emmett watched horrified, as if in slow motion, as the worn edge of the two of spades sliced through the top of Pedro's finger as if it were made of butter. Blood gushed everywhere as Pedro let out a piercing scream, which finally got Mr. Weitzman's attention. 

An ambulance was called to rush Pedro to the hospital. Emmett was summoned to the principal's office, where he protested that he had no idea what had happened. As per usual, nobody believed Emmett. His deck of cards was confiscated and sent to the police station, where officers inspected it, wondering how a simple, old playing card could have cut a boy's fingertip off like that.

In the end it was concluded that Emmett must have had a knife or some other sharp object attached to his two of spades, and that he had removed it during the chaos he had supposedly caused. Emmett was suspended for two weeks and banned from recess for the rest of the term.

Of course his foster mom Rosa was curious when she found out. "Estupido chico!" She yelled. "You cannot go to escuela for dos semanas!? For cutting a poor boy's finger off! Nino malvado! How am I to get off work and take care of you!? I think you are happy with yourself, ¡Inútil, miserable desperdicio de dinero y espacio!" Ross began ranting in Spanish, calling Emmett, "estupido" and "inutil".

Emmett stood quietly and took the abuse. He knew if he spoke up he would only make it worse for himself. After a few minutes, Rosa slowed her tirade of insults and, in English, ordered Emmett to his room, announcing that he was grounded indefinitely. He trudged up the stairs to the hot, stuffy attic. 

Most of the room was filled with dusty boxes, but in the corner was a creaky bed with a lumpy mattress. Emmett lay on the bed miserably. He thought of Rosa's and Pedro's insults. 'What's wrong with me?' Emmett wondered. 'Why am I such a freak?'

That night, Emmett dreamt of his parents, two faceless red-haired people, coming to take him away. They were thrilled to have him, and they took him away to a huge mansion by the ocean and gave him everything he could ever want. They loved him. Then one day, Emmett messed up. He did something weird and stupid and wrong, and the love on his parent's faces turned to disgust and horror as they saw him for what he really was. A freak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish is google translate for "hello dummy," "a donkey, " "donkey," "stupid child, " "school," "two weeks, " "wicked boy," and "useless, miserable waste of money and space."
> 
> Emmett/George really needs some love right now. Luckily, he's about to get it!


	6. Tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Let your freak flag wave  
> Let your freak flag fly  
> Never take it down, never take it down  
> Raise it way up high  
> Let your freak flag fly!"  
> \- Shrek the Musical
> 
> Edit: I had to make some minor edits to this chapter to make the time zones of Texas and the UK consistent with each other. If this is your first time reading the chapter, you can ignore this note.

Thursday March 30, 1989, 4:15 pm (Central Time)  
Springfield, Texas, United States of America

Emmett had spent the last six days in his attic bedroom, bored out of his skull. He owned exactly three books, and he'd read them all too many times to count. The boxes taking up most of the attic had been rearranged into several different forts and castles, and he had rummaged through each one of them, looking for something interesting. There was nothing. Nothing remotely interesting at all. He couldn't even play solitiare without his cards.

The television set was on downstairs. Probably it was Tiffany (the only other kid in the home, a twelve year old girl) watching reruns of her favorite TV show, Family Ties. Emmett heard the infuriatingly familiar theme song, "I bet we've been together for a million years, and I bet we'll be together for a million more..." If he heard that song one more time he thought he might actually die. 

Faintly, Emmett heard a knock on the front door and hurried over to the opposite side of the room and cracked open the window. By standing on a box full of old Christmas cards, he had a pretty good view of the front porch of the old farmhouse. And what he saw surprised him so much he nearly fell off the box! The man standing on the porch looked so strange, it took Emmett a moment to remember that it wasn't Halloween.

The strange man had flowing silver hair and beard that were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He wore half moon shaped glasses and had sparkling blue eyes that brought life to his ancient, wrinkled face. But the strangest thing about him wasn't his hair or his beard, it was his clothes. The man wore long, bright emerald green robes that must have been unbearable in the already sweltering Texas heat.

The front door creaked as it opened, and Tiffany's voice came from inside. "We already belong to a church, we don't want to buy anything, and-" she stopped, noticing the stranger's appearance for the first time. "Uh," she said, "what do you want?"

"May I speak to whoever is in charge here?" The man asked pleasantly.

"Um... okay," said Tiffany. She yelled over her shoulder, "Rosa! Someone to talk to you!" 

She invited the man inside, and though he strained his ears, Emmett couldn't hear what they were saying. 'Wouldn't it be nice,' he thought, 'if I had a way to sort of... extend my ears so that I can hear things I couldn't normally hear?' He filed the thought away for later use. 

A few minutes later, Tiffany called up the stairs. "Emmett!" She yelled. "Get down here loser!"

Emmett yelled back, irritated by the insult, "Why?"

"Chico idiota!" Rosa shouted. "Downstairs, now! Rápidamente!"

Emmett made his way quickly downstairs and into the parlor, where Rosa and the strange old man were waiting for him. "What?" He asked. He noticed that for the first time since he had known her, Rosa was smiling. It was an unpleasant smile.

"This man says your name is down for a school in England." She said. "He's here to take you away."

"And you're just gonna let him?" Emmett asked, alarmed. Deep down he already knew the answer, but a small part of him hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could draw a bit of compassion out of her.

"I've never liked you much anyway." Rosa sneered. "I'll be glad to be rid of you."

Emmett ducked his head and scuffed his bare toes against the ground. He glared over at the old man, who was even stranger looking up close. The man was dressed like he had come from the set of "The Wizard of Oz" and looked very out of place in Rosa's meticulously decorated parlor. Emmett wasn't sure he wanted to go anywhere with someone who looked like that.

"What if I don't want to go to school in England?" Emmett asked.

"I think you will, once you hear what I have to say." Said the old man. He addressed Rosa, "May I have a word with the boy?"

"Of course," Rosa said, still smiling. As she left, Emmett heard her mutter something in her native tongue. "Finalmente, el chico se va a donde pertenece. ¡El manicomio con los otros monstruos!"

Once Rosa was gone, the old man sat on one of the antique couches and gestured for Emmett to do the same. He did so, taking a seat opposite the stranger. "I believe I haven't properly introduced myself, Mr. Stevens." The man said. "My name is Professor Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of a school in England called Hogwarts. Your name has been down at my school since you were born. If you wish, you may be enrolled there."

"That's what I don't get, sir." Emmett said, picking at the frayed hem of his shorts. "If my name is down at your school, surely you could have found me before this and..." He trailed off, the last of his sentence remaining only in his thoughts. 'and taken me back to my parents.'

Professor Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way." He said. "You see, I am not aware of the children who possess the... special abilities required for admission to Hogwarts until the year they turn eleven."

"Special abilities?" Emmett asked. Then his eyes widened as a horrible thought entered his mind. "Its not as school, is it. They've called you to take me off to a madhouse!"

"Hogwarts is not a madhouse," Dumbledore said calmly. "It is a school of magic."

That took a moment to sink in. Finally Emmett managed to speak in a voice hardly more than a whisper, "M-magic? It's magic, what I can do?"

A look of intrigue crossed Dumbledore's face. "What can you do?"

Emmett rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "I- well- nothing much. When I was in kindergarten, I accidentally locked my foster mom in the bathroom for a couple of hours. A few months ago the radio stopped working when I wished it would stop. Last week I got suspended because one of my playing cards cut off the fingertip of a kid who was being a jerk. I never would have thought it was... Magic. I just thought I was, well. You heard what Rosa said. Monstruo. A freak."

"You're no freak, Mr. Stevens." Dumbledore said. "There are millions of people like you all around the world. Including several who care very much about you."

Time seemed to slow down. The sound of his heart beating echoed in Emmett's ears. He had dreamed of this moment for years. Dreamed of someone coming to take him away, to love him and listen to him and protect him from the world. But he had always thought his fantasies would stay that way. Dreams. And yet here was this odd looking old man whose words were shaping Emmett's dreams into a reality. "My-- my parents?" He choked out. "They still want me?"

"Of course they do." Dumbledore said. "They've wanted you ever since you were stolen from them as toddler. They love you."

"They do?" Emmett asked. His eyes felt hot and teary and there was a lump in his throat.

"Yes. Your family loves you very much, Mr Weasley."

"Weasley?" Emmett asked, confused.

"Ah," said Dumbledore, "yes. That is your real name. George Weasley."

They were both silent for several moments. Then Emmett (he would have to get used to thinking about himself as George) had a thought. "Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said, " if my parents really do want me, and if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience... Could I perhaps go and live with them? "

A warm smile appeared on the old man's face, making him seem years younger. "Of course!" He exclaimed. "Of course you can live with your family. I did promise your brother that-"

"Brother?" Emmett cut across him. "I have a brother!?"

"You have five brothers actually," Dumbledore smiled, "five brothers and a sister."

"Wow," Emmett breathed. Then he colored slightly. "Sorry, professor. What did you promise my brothers?"

"I told them they could see you tomorrow, when their Easter break starts." Explained Dumbledore. "I can come for you at nine am tomorrow. That should give you enough time to pack your things and say your goodbyes."

"That sounds wonderful, professor." Emmett said. He was too happy to protest that he could pack and say goodbye now. It wouldn't take him a whole day.

Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Well," he said, "I've already arranged things with your caregiver. I wish I could remain, but I don't want to overstay my welcome. I'll see you at nine tomorrow, Mr. Weasley."

"Thank you, sir," Emmett said fervently. He watched the wizened old man go, overflowing with a million questions about magic and about his family. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting in the parlor when Tiffany came in and plopped down next to him. 

"What was that all about?" She asked. "who was that guy?"

Emmett saw no point in lying. "He's from England. I'm going to go to school there. And tomorrow he is going to come back to take me to my family." He couldn't keep a hint of smugness out of his tone.

Jealousy was written upon Tiffany's every feature. Emmett couldn't blame her. It was every foster kid's dream to have someone whisk them away to their family. "Oh," she said, "well. Can't say I'll miss you, weirdo." She was silent for a moment, and then she got up and left.

Tiffany was one of Emmett's least awful foster siblings he had ever had. But he couldn't say he was going to miss her either. How could he, with the promise of five brothers, a sister, and two parents who were alive and well, all of whom wanted him, waiting for him the next day. Emmett slept better and happier that night than he had slept in a long time, maybe ever.

Thursday 30 March, 1989, 7:11 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

Shortly after Molly, Arthur, Fred, Ron, and Ginny had finished their supper, a handsome barn owl swooped through their open kitchen window and landed on the dinner table. Ron got to it first.

"It's from Hogwarts!" He said.

"Let me see," said Fred, swiping the letter out of his little brother's hands. He tore it open to find a short message in thin, slanted handwriting, which he read out loud. "'I have arranged for Charlie, Bill and Percy to floo to your home at three pm tomorrow. I will arrive with George shortly thereafter.' Signed, Albus Dumbledore!"

"That's wonderful," Arthur said, "we'll have the whole family together for the Easter holidays."

The whole family together. That hadn't happened for seven years, nine months, and twenty three days. And it was going to happen tomorrow. Fred wondered for the millionth time what George was like. Were they identical in every way, as they should be? Had they somehow grown apart? He hoped they hadn't. He hoped that George loved to play pranks, had an excellent sense of humor, and would be really good at Quidditch. Just like Fred. Because if George wasn't... If they weren't alike in every way...

'no,' Fred thought, 'even if George isn't the way I've imagined him, he's still George. And tomorrow is guaranteed to be the best day ever.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish is google translate for "idiot boy," "quickly, " and "Finally, the boy is off to where he belongs. The nuthouse, with the other freaks!"
> 
> It's happening it's happening it's happening it's happening it's happening it's happening it's happening it's happening IT'S HAPPENING!!!! Next chapter, my lovely readers. The chapter you've all been waiting for.


	7. Finally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen... The chapter you've all been waiting for!!

Friday March 31, 1989, 9:00 am (Central Time)  
Springfield, Texas, United States of America

As he had expected, it took Emmett hardly any time at all to pack up his things. Every one of his worldly possessions fit in a single backpack. He had considered calling Summer, as she was the only friend he'd ever had, but he realized that he didn't know her phone number, and he really had already said goodbye back in January.

With nothing else to do, Emmett grabbed his backpack and went downstairs to sit on the porch and wait for Professor Dumbledore. Rosa was inside watching soap operas, and she hardly looked at him as he passed. Well, he definitely wouldn't miss her. He had tried to say goodbye to Tiffany as she left for school. 

"See ya, loser," she had said affectionately. Oh well.  
"I take it you are quite excited?" Said Dumbledore from a few feet away from the porch.

Emmett startled, not realizing he had closed his eyes. "Yes!" he said. "I mean... Uh, yeah, sure, I guess."

"In that case," Dumbledore said, "shall we be on our way?"

"Sure," Emmett turned back towards the house. "Bye, Rosa!" he called.

"¡Espero no volver a verte, estupido!" She called by way of reply. Oh, how Emmett hoped Dumbledore didn't speak Spanish.

"How are we getting to England?" Emmett asked as he and Dumbledore walked down the dirt road toward. "Do you have a car?" Somehow he couldn't picture this man, whose robes were plum colored now, doing something as normal as driving.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, my boy, I don't have a car," he said, "and it's been so long since I was in one, I may have forgotten how to use it. All those strange buttons and knobs."

That confused Emmett. "But then, how will we get to the airport?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "How foolish of me. I forgot you were raised by Muggles."

"Muggles?" Emmett asked.

"Non-magical people." Dumbledore replied. "You see, wizards have developed more advanced methods of transportation. We can disappear from one place and instantly appear in another, on the opposite side of the world if need be."

"Like, teleportation?" Emmett asked. "Like in Star Trek?"

"I haven't the least idea what you're talking about." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "But yes, I suppose so. If you'll take my arm, please."

Emmett hesitated.

"You're nervous, my boy?" Dumbledore asked.

"A bit." Emmett replied. He tried to sort through the conflicted feelings battling for attention inside of him. Joy and terror. Excitement and dread. "I guess... I've waited my whole life to meet my family, and now that it's happening... What if having a real family isn't everything I dreamed it would be?"

Dumbledore gave Emmett a reassuring smile. "Don't worry." He said. "I understand your fears, but I can assure you that Molly and Arthur Weasley are two of the most incredible people I've ever met. You are lucky to be their son."

Emmett took a deep breath. Then he took hold of Dumbledore's arm. "I'm ready," he said.

"Grasp my arm firmly." Dumbledore said. "And I must warn you, it's a rather unpleasant experience." With that, the old wizard turned on his heel, sending both of them into the suffocating darkness of apparition. 

Friday 31 March, 1989, 2:59 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom 

The three youngest Weasleys were trying to play Quidditch. Key word: trying. Fred kept getting distracted, dropping the ball or getting hit in the face or missing the tree they were trying to stick the quaffle into by a mile. He glared at the old, battered watch he had found in the attic every five seconds, waiting for it to be three o'clock. After half an hour of this, Ron and Ginny kicked him off the pitch.

Fred flew back to the house and sat on the roof, broomstick in hand. From there, he had an excellent view of the vast, rolling green countryside, with the small village of Ottery St Catchpole nestled between the hills a few miles away. The chimney was only a few meters from where Fred sat, and from it wafted several delicious smells. His mom was just as nervous and excited as he was, and she was coping by cooking up a storm. Fred glanced at his watch again and gave a start. It was three o'clock!

Any minute now, Dumbledore would show up with George beside him. Any minute now, Fred would have his brother back. In just a few short minutes, things would go back to the carefree way they had been before. Everything would be perfect and wonderful, because they would be together again, as they were supposed to be. Fred scanned the road leading up to the house, but saw no one.

He checked his watch again. 3:01. They were late. 

A door banging alerted Fred that someone had come outside. He leaned over to spot the lanky figure of his father meandering through the garden. Dad went into the broom shed and started banging around. 

3:02.

Dad emerged from the shed carrying Bill's broom. He clambered onto it and flew off the the orchard, where he joined Ron and Ginny in their game. It had been a while since Fred had seen his dad play Quidditch. He supposed even his parents were getting antsy.

3:03.

Even later. Fred found himself wondering if maybe they were late because George had lots of friends and family in America that he didn't want to leave. That was a silly thought of course, surely his brother was just as excited as he was about today. But he couldn't help thinking, what if...?

3:04.

Was that them? Were Dumbledore and George finally arriving? No, that was just old man Murphy and his granddaughter on their way to the village. Fred bit his nails. Four minutes wasn't a very long time, but he worried anyway. Where could they be? What was causing the hold up? When was he going to get his brother back, for Merlin's sake?!

3:05.

Argh, he couldn't take this any more. Fred snatched up his broom, because he was going to- was that them? For real this time? Yes! It had to be! There was no mistaking that long, silvery beard. Fred gave an ecstatic whoop of joy and mounted his broom faster than he ever had before. He soared down from the roof, not caring that there might be Muggles watching because George was right there. What felt like a lifetime of waiting was finally over, and it had led to this moment.

* * * * * * *

Emmett decided that he did not like... Whatever this was. Sure, he was thrilled because it was magic, but also, no thank you. As soon as he had grabbed Dumbledore's arm, the wizard had turned on his heel, and Emmett was plunged into darkness. He felt like his body was being squeezed through a rubber tube. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, his eyes and inner ears were popping out of his head- 

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Emmett found himself standing on a dirt road, but this dirt was rich and dark and moist, nothing like the colorless dust that was everywhere in Texas. He was surrounded by countryside, just as he had been moments before, but instead of a flat expanse of grass and dirt, he saw hills and trees, and heard the gentle gurgle of a creek just out of sight.

"Wow," he breathed, "where are we?"

"We are currently standing roughly two and a half miles from the village of Ottery St Catchpole." Dumbledore said. "You're family's home is at the top of the hill, just around this bend."

Tentatively, Emmett took a few steps forward. He saw that Dumbledore hadn't moved and sent him a questioning glace. Dumbledore gave him an encouraging smile. Emmett went slowly around the bend in the road, nervous and excited. There, at the top of the hill was an odd house that looked like several separate cottages had been stacked on top of each other. It seemed like it was held up by magic, and Emmett realised it probably was. Surrounding the house was a wild garden, and on the other side of the hill was a small orchard. 

Realizing that this was his house was amazing. Then he noticed something strange. There was a person sitting on the roof, four or five stories up, with no sign of how they had gotten there. The person seemed to notice Emmett, too. He let out a whoop of joy, grabbed something, and seemed to jump off the roof. Emmett panicked for a moment before realising that thing thing the person had grabbed was a broom, and the person was using the broom to fly.

The person flew (actually flew!) towards Emmett at a breakneck speed and landed a few paces away from him. He didn't have time to register anything about the person except that they were a boy about his size before the person tackled him in a massive bear hug.

Emmett just stood there, too surprised to even reciprocate the hug. After several long moments, the other boy stepped back, and Emmett received a shock. The boy was identical to him. They had the same flaming red hair, light hazel eyes, long nose, and protruding ears. Emmett was willing to bet that even their freckles were the same. The only difference was that the other boy's hair was shorter, and he was... not chubby, exactly, but... full. Like he had been eating three plentiful meals every day his whole life. Imagine that. 

"Whoa," said the boy, "we're identical. I knew we would be."

"Wh-why?" Emmett managed to say. "Who- who are you?"

The boy's eyes widened and he clapped himself in the forehead. "Of course!" He said, "you don't even know who I am. That must have been weird, some random stranger just attacking you and hugging you. Sorry about that." He offered Emmett an apologetic grin. "Guess I got excited, I've been waiting so long to meet you!"

Emmett raised an eyebrow and rolled his hand in a "go on" gesture.

"Right," the boy said, "introductions. Sorry. My name is Fred Weasley, and I'm your twin brother!"

"What- my-" Emmett was reeling. He had been expecting lots of siblings, but a twin? What the heck. "I have a twin brother?" He asked.

Fred grinned. "Yep, that's me!" He said. "Fred Weasley, mischief maker extraordinaire, and your devilishly handsome twin who is three and a half minutes older than you." 

The best day ever was already getting better for Emmett. "It's really exciting to meet you," he said, "I'm Em- well, actually my name is George." The name tasted strange in his mouth.

"I know," said Fred happily, "we've been waiting for you."

"We?" Emmett asked, wondering where the rest of his family was.

Fred clapped his forehead again. "Shoot," he exclaimed, "they don't even know you're here!" He turned to the house, cupped his hands to his mouth, and yelled, "Mum! Dad! Ron! Ginny! Charlie! Bill! Percy! GEORGE IS HERE!!!!!!"

"How come only you knew I was here?" Emmett asked.

"We knew you were coming," said Fred, "we just didn't know exactly when. I only saw you 'cause I was on the roof."

He had been on the roof, Emmett remembered. "What were you doing on the roof?"

"Waiting for you," Fred replied unabashedly.

"That seems like a dangerous place to wait." Emmett pointed out.

"Well, yeah. " Fred put one arm around Emmett and gave him a devilish smile. "But that's sort of the whole point. I wouldn't bother going up on the roof of it was dangerous! Besides, I've got my broom. I'll be fine."

"Broom?" Emmett asked. "Like, a witch's broomstick? You have a magic broom that lets you fly?"

"Yeah!" Fred looked delighted. "Want to give it a go?"

"Can I really?" Emmett asked. And he had thought this day couldn't get any better.

"Absolutely." Fred said. He picked up the battered broomstick where he had dropped it and held it out to Emmett. "Technically it's half yours anyway, at least until-" he stopped himself. "Until we go to Diagon Alley sometime."

Loads more questions about the wizarding world piled up in Emmett's mind. He opened his mouth to ask some of them, but stopped when he saw three people running down the hill from the direction of the house. There were two kids a few years younger than him, a boy and a girl, each with flaming red hair. Trailing behind them was a balding, red haired man whose strange style of clothing resembled Dumbledore's, except that this man's robes were shabby and colorless. 

When the three newcomers made it to them, Fred took introductions upon himself. "George," he said, "this is Ron and Ginny. Our brother and sister."

The little girl (Ginny, what an interesting name) rushed forward and hugged Emmett. Since he was more prepared this time for the sudden show of affection, he was able to awkwardly hug her back. "I always wanted to meet you." She confided. Emmett realized that his sister was young enough that she probably had been born after he was... Whatever had happened to him.

Ron was more hesitant. He just stared at Emmett for a moment, until Fred shoved him forward. He still didn't move.

"It's okay," Emmett said, "you don't have to hug me if you don't want to. But I promise I don't bite."

"How come you talk so weird?" Ron asked.

Suddenly Emmett was aware of how different he was. How his thick Texas accent contrasted with his siblings' lilting English one. Just another freakish way he was sure to stand out. 

"Ron!" Fred exclaimed, punching his little brother on the arm. "Don't be impernant! It's not his fault he talks like an American."

"You're doing it again, Freddie." Ginny chided.

"Doing what?" Fred asked.

"You used a Percy word." She replied.

Fred rolled his eyes. "I can't help picking up some of his fancy talk. It's not my fault the git sounds like he swallowed a dictionary."

Ginny giggled.

Emmett stared at them in confusion. He had no idea what they were talking about, thtough he recognised Percy as one of the names Fred had called. The experience reminded him of arriving to a new foster home.

Ron rubbed his arm where Fred had hit him. "Percy's not the only one." He grumbled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred asked.

"You're a git!" Said Ron. 

Before Fred could retaliate, the balding man caught up to them, panting slightly. "Now boys," he said, "what's going on here?"

"Fred's being a git." Ron said.

At the same time, Fred pulled Emmett toward the man. "George is here!" He announced.

The man froze. He looked at Fred. He looked at Emmett. He looked back and forth between them several times. "George," he whispered. And this time, it was Emmett who rushed forward into the hug. He didn't need introductions to know that this man was his father. 

All the fairy tales and books Emmett had read, all the movies he had watched, had failed to convey these emotions. Not even the most talented author or filmmaker in the world could truly express Emmett's feelings that day on paper or onscreen. He himself tried and failed to describe what he felt. It was pure joy. He hadn't even met half of his family, and yet wrapped in his father's arms, Emmett felt something he had never truly felt before. Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish is google translate for "I hope I never see you again, stupid!"
> 
> The word Fred was trying to say is "impertinent".
> 
> Having been raised by Muggles, Emmett/George was exposed to popular muggle media. I have decided that he is a Star Trek fan. Fight me.


	8. Wonderful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized as I was about to post this how perfect it is that chapter seven is the one where Emmett/George finally goes home, considering that seven in the magical world is a lucky number. I honestly didn't do that on purpose, but it worked out great, don't cha think?

Friday 31 March, 1989, 3:10 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

For his fifth birthday, Fred had received his first broomstick. It was a hand me down from Charlie, so it was well used and worn, but it still flew. Fred had only ever flown a few feet above the ground before, on a toy broomstick. The thrilling swooping sensation of really truly flying had been regarded as the greatest feeling of his life- until now.

Now, the feeling of riding a real broom for the first time paled in comparison to Fred's current experience. Dumbledore had bid them farewell and returned to Hogwarts. Then five of the Weasleys headed up the hill to the Burrow. There, standing less than half a meter away from Fred, was George. 

George looked exactly the way Fred had figured him, meaning that they were identical, of course. Fred had told his brother he'd been sure they would be, but up until they were actually reunited, he hadn't been sure. 

"Are you cold?" Dad asked. Fred realized he was talking to George. He realised that George was shivering slightly.

"A bit," George said after a moment. "Texas is a lot farther south than England."

Spring had finally begun to arrive, but the air was still crisp and cool. Fred pulled off his sweater, which was purple with a yellow letter "F" emblazoned on the front. It was a bit cold out, but he was used to it. He handed the sweater to George.

"Here," he said.

George took the sweater hesitantly, holding it as if unsure what to do with it. "Your sweater? Really?" He asked.

For a moment, Fred was confused. He wondered if it was so warm in Texas that George had never worn a sweater before. He wondered if his brother knew what a sweater was supposed to be used for. He wondered if he should help George put the sweater on. He wondered if offering his assistance would be considered rude. Then Fred realized George wasn't asking how to use the sweater, he was asking if it was okay for him to use Fred's sweater. 

"You can borrow it," Fred assured him, "I have another one."

George hesitated a moment longer, before slipping the purple sweater over his head. He smiled and hugged himself. "Thanks," he said, "this might be the most comfortable thing I've ever worn."

"Now you look like Fred, but with longer hair!" Ginny said.

" 'course he does, " Ron replied. "They're twins, aren't they?"

Ginny's words inspired Fred. A shock of genius coursed through him. He put his hands to his head. "Merlin's pants," he exclaimed. "I just had the most brilliant behind brilliant idea!"

"What?" George asked.

Fred slung an arm around his twin's shoulders. "Do like pranks, brother?" He asked. "Practical jokes?"

George's face lit up like a birthday cake. "Heck yeah I do." He replied.  
"Uh oh," Ron said.

"The prank machine is up and running." Ginny grinned.

Dad turned back to look at them. "Fred," he said, "must you drag your brother into your mischief when he hasn't even come home yet?" He tried to look stern, but his tone was more fond than reprimanding. 

"I don't mind." George assured. "Besides, I'm sure whatever brilliant idea he's got will be-"

"Extremely hilarious." Fred said without even thinking.

Ron, Ginny, and Dad stared at them.

"Did I just-" Fred started.

"Finish my sentence?" George finished. "I guess we really are-"

"Twins!" They both said together. George grinned like an idiot. Fred gave a delighted laugh.

"That was creepy." Ron said.

"No, it was cool!" Fred said. This twin thing was already exceeding his wildest dreams. They were finishing each other's sentences! This day just kept getting better.

"What were you going to say, Fred?" George asked. "about your brilliant idea?"

Fred rubbed his hands together. "I was thinking," he said, "with my sweater on, you could easily pass for me. Wouldn't it be hilarious if you went into the house and found mum, and see long it takes her to realize you're not me?" 

"Well..." Said George. "I'd kind of like to me her as me, you know? Not as you."

"Oh." Fred tried to hide his disappointment. "Okay."

"That does sound funny, though..." George looked like he might be at least considering Fred's idea.

Leave it to Dad to try to ruin it all, of course. "Don't let him talk you into doing something if you don't want to do it." He said.

"No, it's okay." George said. "I want to do it."

"Are you sure?" Fred asked, unable to hide his hopeful feelings.

George grinned and rubbed his hands together in the same way Fred had moments before. "Yeah," he said, "this is going to be great!" 

*******

Great, yes. Absolutely. As Emmett continued up the hill toward the haphazard house, he still felt hopelessly conflicted. Did he want to take part in a wonderful practical joke, at the cost of meeting his mother for the first time as someone other than himself? Or did he want to meet his mother as himself, at the cost of disappointing his new twin brother? Emmett would only meet his mother for the first time once, while he would have years to play pranks with Fred. And yet, he had agreed to participate in the joke, and he was nearly to the house.

In the end it was pride that had Emmett continuing through the garden. He was almost there, so there really was no point in turning back. Besides, he didn't want his siblings to think he was a chicken. Emmett briefly considered telling them that he had been unable to find their mom, but then he caught a whiff of something delicious. Was that a roast?

Drawn by the mouth-watering smell, Emmett walked towards the house. He paused at the front door and raised his hand to knock, before realizing that surely Fred would just walk right in, and knocking would totally give Emmett away. He eased the door open, dodging a pile of Wellington boots, and stepped into the house. 

The front door opened into a sort of sitting room. Several cushy but worn looking armchairs sat in front of an empty fireplace. Hovering over one of the chairs was a pair of knitting needles that were darning a sock all on their own. Emmett stopped to stare at the needles, fascinated. He had never thought about magic being used for something as simple as darning socks, but he loved it.

Through a doorway Emmett heard the bustling of pots and pans and the faint, tinny sound of a radio. He opened his mouth to speak before realizing something. Fred spoke with an English accent, while Emmett knew he sounded like a full blooded Texan. Surely that was enough of an excuse to chicken out, right? But... There was someone in that kitchen. His real biological mother was only a few feet away from him. And he was a decent actor...

Before he could decide what to do, a woman's voice came from the kitchen. "Hello?" She asked. "Bill? Charlie? Percy? Is that you? Did they reconnect the floo network?"

Emmett stood, frozen. That was his mom. That was what his mom sounded like. She was right there. His mom was right there!! He supposed he should probably answer her. "N-no mum." He managed to say in a decent imitation of Fred's accent. "Its me. E- Fred."  
'Whew,' he thought, 'that was a close one.' Emmett made his way into the kitchen, where he noticed carrots washing themselves and a peeler peeling potatoes all on its own. Bustling around the kitchen was a plump woman with frizzy red hair, waving a wooden stick (a magic wand?) And wearing a worn and faded apron and similar robes to what his dad wore. His mom.

"Have you seen your brothers, dear?" She asked. 

It took Emmett a moment to realize she was talking to him. "Er..." He said. "Which brothers?"

His mother gave him an exasperated smile. "Which brothers do you think I'm talking about? Bill and Charlie and Percy. George. The ones who should be here by now."

"Nope," Emmett said, "I haven't seen them. And I could see really far."

She turned around and stared at him in an accusatory way. "Fred Weasley. Have you been on the roof again!?"

Uh-oh. Was their mom not supposed to know that Fred had been on the roof? "No!" Emmett said quickly. Then, just to be safe, he changed the subject. "Dinner smells heavenly."

"Why, thank you dear." Emmett's mom said.

"N-need any help?" Emmett asked. He was running out of things to say.

"Er..." She gave him an odd look, "no, that's all right. I'm more of less finished."

Emmett stood there awkwardly for a moment before backing into the sitting room. And running into Fred.

"Oi!" Fred whispered. 

"Sorry," Emmett hissed back, reverting to his natural accent. "I think she's too busy to notice that I'm not you. I couldn't think of anything else to say or do without making it awkward."

Fred peeked around the corner at their mom. "Hmm," he said, "you're probably right."

"What do we do now?" Emmett asked. Both boys were silent for a time.

"I've got it!" Fred said quietly. He leaned over to whisper in Emmett's ear. It perhaps wasn't much of a prank, but it was still intriguing. Emmett was willing to do it.

They decided to wait a few minutes, until it didn't look like their mom would accidentally let something burn when she discovered Emmett. "Go now," Fred finally said.

"You ready, Fred?" Emmett asked.

"I'm ready, George," Fred confirmed.

Emmett stepped back into the kitchen as casually as he could manage. "When will dinner be ready?" He asked. "I'm hungry."

"Not for a few hours." Said his mom. "I've still got to let it all cook. And what happened to the polite little boy who was in here a few minutes ago?"

"He got bored of waiting," Emmett said. "I don't understand why they aren't here yet. Dumbledore said three o'clock!"

Molly sighed. "He said around three, dear. Now get out of here."

"Why?" Emmett pouted.

"Your anxiousness and impatience is making me anxious and impatient." she replied. Then she softened and came over to him. "I know you're excited. So am I. But bothering me isn't going to bring George back to us any sooner. So how about you go outside and play Quidditch with Ron and Ginny, to take your mind off things. Okay?"

Quidditch? Emmett filed a mental note to ask what that was later. "Okay, mom," he said.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said.

That was Fred's cue, more or less. The other boy stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen. "He's not Fred, I am!" He exclaimed indignantly. "Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?"

She stared at them, her eyes darting back and forth between two identical boys. "You- you're-" she stuttered, looking at Emmett. "You're George?"

"That would be correct." Emmett said, letting the Texan lilt slip back into his voice.

"Oh, my baby boy!" She cried, wrapping him in her embrace. Emmett had been hugged several times in the last few minutes, but this but felt different. Not necessarily because his mother was, well, squishier than his father or his siblings, but this but was so much more... maternal. A mother's love is a unique and powerful thing, and there is no greater emotion the deep feeling that courses through a mother whose child has finally come home.

Something wet fell onto Emmett's head. When the embrace finally ended, he realized his mom was crying. And so was he. Silent tears of pure joy streamed down the faces of mother and son. Fred's eyes were a bit wet, too. 

The boys' mother was the first to speak. "You're the one who came in here a few minutes ago," she said to Emmett. " Why didn't you tell me who you were? "

"It was my idea." Fred explained. "We wanted to see how long it would take you to realize he wasn't me."

"And you let them do this?" Molly addressed someone behind the boys. Fred and Emmett turned to see Arthur, Ron, and Ginny standing in the sitting room.

He shrugged. "They were quite insistent," Arthur said unabashedly.

Molly shook her head. "You boys have been reunited for only a few minutes, and you've already pulled one over on me." She sighed and stepped back to take in the sight of the twins. "That's going to take some getting used to."

Suddenly, bright green flames roared in the fireplace that had been empty moments before and three teenage boys stepped out of the fire, unharmed but lightly dusted with ash. "Witches and wizards can travel through fireplaces," Fred said quietly, sensing Emmett's confusion.

"Oh," Emmett said, "cool."

"Yeah, it is pretty cool," Fred agreed. Then he grabbed Emmett's hand and dragged him towards the fireplace. "Come on, you've got to meet our other brothers!" 

When the three newcomers noticed Emmett, they stopped and stared. "Oh, great," said the shortest of the three, "they're identical."

"H-hi," Emmett stuttered, a bit intimidated by these bigger boys.

The tallest boy embraced Emmett briefly and casually. He had longish red hair and wore odd black robes and a red and gold striped tie. "Hey," he said, "I'm Bill." Something about the way Bill spoke just exuded coolness.

Bill had only just introduced himself when somebody tackled Emmett so hard he nearly fell over. After a moment, the person let go, and Emmett got a good look and him. The boy looked about sixteen or seventeen, with thick, muscular arms and stocky shoulders. "Name's Charlie," he said, "sorry if that was a little rough. It's just good to have you home, little brother."

Nobody had ever called Emmett "little brother" before. The words sent a thrill through him. "I'm happy to be home," he said. Charlie hugged him again.

"All of us were super excited to death the whole week!" Ginny piped up.

Charlie and Bill glanced at each other uncomfortably. "One of us has been being a right pain in the neck." Charlie grumbled.

"How many times do I have to say I'm sorry? You know I didn't mean any of that." Someone said. Emmett realized it was the last of his brothers. He sorted through the list of names in his head, and guessed that this must be Percy.

"Did you hear something, Charlie?" Bill asked, ignoring his younger brother.

"Nope," Charlie replied, glaring at Percy, who was leaning against the fireplace looking put out.

"Boys," Molly warned, "what's going on? Why are you giving Percy the silent treatment?"

"Because he's a-" Charlie began.

Bill cut across him. "Tell you later mum," he said smoothly with a glance at Fred.

Emmett looked at his twin, who had an expression on his face that was somehow guilty and mischievous and the same time. Emmett wondered if whatever Percy had done to earn himself the silent treatment had anything to do with Fred.

Percy cleared his throat loudly. He walked pompously to Emmett had held out his hand. Emmett took it. The handshake was brief, stiff and businesslike. Percy seemed to be a year or two older than Emmett, though he was several inches taller, almost the same height as Charlie. The older boy's red hair was short, his face less freckled, and he wore thick, horn rimmed glasses.

A sniffling sound came from the corner. Arthur was crying. Soon Molly was crying too. Emmett's brothers were all beaming and teary eyed, except for Percy who continued to look sullen.

"Why's everybody crying?" Ginny asked. That earned her a few laughs. "I'm being serious!" She exclaimed, stomping her foot (she pronounced it "seer-yuss").

"It's just so wonderful, " Molly said, "to have all my children together again."

"All seven of us," Fred said thoughtfully. When Emmett looked at his twin, he noticed something strange. The grin that had been stuck on Fred's face for the last fifteen or so minutes was gone, replaced by a minute frown. There was a melancholy sort of look in his brother's eyes. In fact, Fred seemed almost... Disappointed.

Emmett was filled with such happiness, he could fathom why anyone could be sad. Ginny sidled up to him and took his hand, dragging him towards the door that lead outside and telling him she wanted to show him something. He looked back at Fred, who had sunk into an armchair looking confused and unhappy. Emmett seen enough movies to know that a good brother would probably go over and ask what was wrong. But...

Ron, Bill, and Charlie were going outside too. They were laughing and talking and it seemed like such fun. 'Later,' Emmett told himself, turning away from Fred, 'Later I'll figure out what's wrong with Fred, and Percy too. But right now... "

Emmett was going to have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with this chapter, especially the ending. I rewrote the last few paragraphs a couple of times more than I revised the rest of it. I'm still not totally satisfied, but I decided to stop obsessing over it and just post anyway. Maybe it will seem better to you guys than it does to me?
> 
> Please feel free to tell me what you think. I love all feedback, just try to keep it clean.


	9. Real

Friday 31 March, 1989, 3:22 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

"It's just so wonderful," Molly said, "to have all my children together again."

"All seven of us," Fred said thoughtfully. He looked around hopefully, waiting for it to happen. For what to happen? Well, he wasn't sure exactly. But seven was the most highly magical number, which meant that the reunion of seven siblings ought to be a highly auspicious magical moment. Fred had been waiting for said moment for years, though he wasn't sure what would happen. 

A flash of sparks, maybe, or a protective shield around the house. A surge of powerful magic would flow through the seven Weasley siblings. Maybe they would have some special telepathic connection. Or, ooh! Fred and his brothers and sisters might become immortal! Or maybe Fred had been reading too many comic books.

Fred's face fell as he realized that nothing special was going to happen. He had been so sure that George's homecoming would make everything perfect again. His family could be carefree and happy. But... Dad still looked tired and overworked. Percy was still a git. Fred knew he should have known that something as simple as a family reunion couldn't solve his problems. Still, the realization hit him like a bludger to the face. 

Suddenly Fred noticed that he was alone. Everyone seemed to have gone outside. Well, every one except for Percy (the jerkface) who was probably upstairs reading. The door flew open and Ron crashed inside. 

"Fred!" He said. "We're going to teach George his to play Quidditch! Come on!"

Part of Fred would have liked very much to remain on the couch a bit longer, sulk a little bit more. But he could sulk anytime. George would only play his first Quidditch game once. And of course Fred knew he had spent years dwelling on a fantasy. It was about time he focused on something real.

*******

In Emmett's opinion, flying for the first time was quite similar to meeting his family for the first time. Absolutely wonderful. He had of course ridden a bike before, and stuck his head out the window of a car going eighty miles an hour on the freeway. But this was different, because not only could be move left and right, forward and backward, he could go up and down, and loop-the-loop.

With the wind swooshing past him, watering his eyes and whipping his hair into his face, Emmett felt alive. Free. He knew that he belonged in the air, and he didn't want to ever come down.

And then there was Quidditch, which was unlike any sport Emmett had ever played before. It was almost like a combination between basketball, baseball, and hide-and-go-seek, played on broomstick fifty feet in the air. The idea of it was a bit complicated, but Emmett's siblings promised he would get the hang of it.

Emmett had fun playing three a side Quidditch; him, Fred, and Bill versus Charlie, Ginny, and Ron; but Charlie explained that the real thing was even better.

"In real Quidditch," Charlie said, "a team has seven players. The first is the seeker. The seeker's job is to catch a tiny golden ball called the snitch that flies around the pitch. Whichever seeker catches the snitch first earns his team an extra one hundred and fifty points and ends the game. That's the only way to end the game, and the team that catches the snitch nearly always wins. So the seeker is the most important -"

"Eh," Bill muttered, "that's debatable."

Charlie ignored him. "I'm the seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which is why we always win." He said. Ron proceeded to fly at him and knock him off his broom. Luckily they had been hovering only a few feet off the ground. 

"What's Gryffindor?" Emmett asked.

"Its one of the four Hogwarts houses," Ginny said. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"Gryffindor is the best house," Ron said.

"Our whole family have been in Gryffindor." Added Fred.

Emmett hoped he would be in Gryffindor, though he wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in some other house just to showcase how much he already stood out. "Oh, okay," he said, "anyway, what are the other players on a Quidditch team? "

"The next players are the chasers, three on each team." Bill explained. "Their job is to get the Quaffle, that's this," he held up a scarlet soccer ball sized ball they'd been playing with, "through the three hoops at either end of the pitch. We haven't got any hoops, so we use trees instead." Bill gestured to the apple trees in the orchard surrounding them. "I'm one of Gryffindor's chasers."

"I'm'a be a chaser too!" Ginny piped up. She swooped down and snatched the quaffle out of Bill's hands.

Fred hefted his bat. "Then there are the beaters." He said. "Two of them. These two cannon ball like things called bludgers race around the pitch trying to knock people off their brooms, and the beaters have to protect their team while trying to hit the bludgers at the other team. We haven't got bludgers either, but we've got bats, so sometimes dad'll enchant a couple of rocks to chase us around. I'm going to be one of Gryffindors beaters. Hey, maybe you can -"

"Be the other one!" Emmett said. "Great idea Fred." He smiled. Fred smiled back. Emmett was glad to see that whatever Fred had been moping about earlier seemed to have slipped his mind.

Charlie stated back and forth between the twins. "Did you just finish Fred's sentence?" He asked. "That's a thing now?"

"Yes, it is!" Fred and Emmett said together.

"Oooo-kay..." Said Bill. 

Ron cleared his throat. "I believe we have forgotten a player," he said, "the keeper. The keeper stays back by the goal hoops and stops the chasers from scoring."

"So, like a soccer goalie." Emmett said.

"What's soccer?" Ginny asked.

Emmett felt instantly embarrassed, but he did his best to explain. "Soccer is a, uh... What do you call people who can't do magic? Muggles? Soccer is a muggle sport. A bunch of people kick a ball around and try to get it into the huge nets at either end of the field while one goalie in each team protects the nets."

"Only one ball?" Charlie said. "Sounds boring."

"It is, " Emmett agreed. "Though mine is the unpopular opinion."

"I'm going to be Gryffindor keeper," Ron said loudly. 

Fred tousled his little brother's hair. "You'll have to learn how to catch the Quaffle first, ickle Ronniekins!" He laughed.

Ron's ears burned bright red. "You won't be so smug when I knock you off your broom!" He growled.

"Have to catch me first, baby brother!" Fred taunted. And the two were off, racing around the clearing the Weasleys used as a Quidditch pitch. Ginny joined in the game when Ron nearly crashed into her. 

As Emmett watched his siblings, he had an idea. "I just thought," he said to Bill and Charlie, "if Ron is a keeper, Fred and I are beaters, you" he pointed at Charlie "are a seeker, and you" he pointed at Bill "and Ginny are chasers, all we'd have to do is have Percy play chaser and we could have our own personal Quidditch team."

Both older boys snorted. They snickered. Pretty soon they were both laughing as if Emmett had just said the funniest thing ever. "What?" He asked angrily.

"Sorry," Bill said wiping his eyes, "we're not laughing at you. It's actually a pretty good idea, one we've had ourselves. The trouble is in order for it to work, you would have to get Percy to play Quidditch."

"What's so funny about that?" Emmett asked.

"The nutter hates physical activity of any kind." Charlie snickered. "He's played Quidditch once in the last year: on Christmas and only because dad made him. Even when he does play we have to bench him, seeing as he sucks."

Bill shook his head as if disgusted. "Percy's completely mad."

Emmett said nothing. He wondered if everyone shunning Percy had anything to do with what Bill and Charlie had just said. Perhaps they were mad at Percy for some reason because he didn't want to play Quidditch? Maybe Bill and Charlie thought Percy was an embarrassment, with both of them on the house team and him being so non athletic. That seemed like a silly thing to get hung up on.

His thoughts were interrupted when Fred came tearing past. As he did he swiped Charlie's shoulder with his hand. "You're it!" He exclaimed gleefully.

Before Emmett could register what had happened, Charlie lunged toward him and touched his arm, then swooped away, rising nearly above the trees. "No tag backs!" He called.

"Oh it is on!" Emmett said. Quidditch was a new game to him, but tag? At recess tag was the game played by the loners, the kids who didn't have anyone else to hang out with. Therefore, he had lots of experience in that arena. But Emmett quickly discovered that broomstick tag was very different from the game he was used to. It required controlled speed and agility on a broom, both of which he had yet to master. Eventually he tagged Ginny by a lucky swipe at the bottom of her show as he goes over her. 

Playing tag on a broomstick added a whole new level of fun to the familiar game. Emmett could tag his siblings from above or below as well as from the sides and back. This made it harder to catch people, but flying was much less tiring than running. He was having fun, but that made him a bit sad. This was what he had been missing out on for the last eight years. Oh well. Now Emmett would just have to have extra fun with his brothers and sister, to make up for the time he had lost. 

Friday 31 March, 1989, 6:49 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

After a few hours, Fred was quite glad he had decided to play Quidditch. The fresh air, chilly because George still had his sweater (not that Fred was complaining) helped to clear his mind. Sure, he decided, maybe all his hopes and dreams about their reunion hadn't come true, but at least they were together again. That was what mattered, not some silly fantasy about lucky numbers. Right?

George flew down the makeshift pitch on a broom borrowed from Arthur, quaffle clutched in one hand. Charlie and Ginny raced after him, but he had too much of a head start. George slipped easily past Ron, who was playing keeper, and stuck the quaffle in the trees and the end of the pitch. 

"Oh yeah!" Bill yelled. He flew to George's side and gave him a one armed celebratory hug. Fred cheered loudly from his keeper's position on the opposite end. Ron grumbled, and Ginny reassured him that everyone makes mistakes sometimes. Charlie had the same look on his face that he had had the entire game: like he wished he could play every position at once. 

A ringing noise sounded up from the house. "Boys," Molly called, "Dinnertime!"

"We win!" Fred shouted happily. "Two hundred ten to one hundred forty!"

George looked confused. "But... Nobody caught the snitch." He said.

"No, duh," said Ron, "we don't have a snitch, remember?"

"Oh," George's face was bright red.

" S'okay, " Charlie clapped him on the back. "Easy mistake."

Fred ran to George as soon as the six of them had landed. "You were amazing!" He said.

"Aw, I wasn't that good. Even Ron and Ginny scored more times than I did." George said.

"Well, yeah," admitted Fred, "but you've never been on a broom before. We've had years of practice. You were pretty good for a first timer."

"Thanks," George blushed.

"And it was nice to have even numbers for once." Charlie added.

The six Weasleys stuck their brooms in the shed and headed for the house. They could smell Molly's delicious cooking wafting towards them. "Oh just you wait," Fred told George, "mum's the best cook in the world."

Fred had grown up on his mother's find cooking, but he could tell George hadn't had that privilege. That much was obvious from the way his twin's eyes lit up when he saw the small feast their mum had laid out, the way he hesitated as they sat down. Plus George was much skinnier than Fred. And Fred was average sized.

Molly surmised as much as her son, giving George an extra large helping and promising to feed him up. Once all nine Weasleys had been served, they began to eat. George are as if he had never tasted food before. Fred dug into his food, savoring the light, fluffy rolls, juicy roast beef, and perfectly seasoned and cooked potatoes, carrots, and onions.

Suddenly, Molly let out a moan. "Oh man!" She said

"What is it, Molly dear?" Arthur asked as everyone looked at her curiously.

"I bought squash at the farmer's market yesterday." Molly said sadly. "I could have put some in the dinner."

Charlie, Ron, Ginny, Bill, Fred, and even Arthur laughed. Percy just poked sullenly at his food. George looked confused. "Mum's obsessed with squash recently," Fred said in an undertone, "she tries to put it in everything."

"You got disappointed over squash?" Ron asked in disgust.

"It tastes so good." Molly defended. "And it's healthy, too, so it's like adding extra goodness to your-"

Fred interrupted her. "You know, just 'cause something is healthy doesn't mean it's good." He said. Then he looked at the rest of his family, the same ones. "She'll be putting squash in her ice cream soon!"

More laughter. "Eurgh," Ginny said, shuddering at the thought of squash flavored ice cream. 

"I draw a line!" Molly exclaimed. "When it comes to dessert... Sweets are sweets."

"What about carrot cake?" Charlie asked, trying very hard not to laugh.

"Carrot cake isn't really a dessert though," Ron mused.

Ginny looked thoughtful. "I don't know," she said, "I've had some pretty good carrot cake."

"The only good part about carrot cake is the cream cheese frosting." Arthur said in a stern voice as if that settled the matter.

"Exactly!" Charlie agreed.

"I like carrot cake." Molly said.

"Ew," Fred said, "are you kidding me? It's 'carrot' and 'cake' in the same sentence. Two things that should never be mixed."

"Yeah," agreed Ron, "that's weird."

"No, the same word." Charlie said. The others gave him a moment to think that through. "Oh, wait, no. Never mind Fred you're right."

Bill snorted a laugh. "If there was no space in between the words, it'd be carrotcake. And that's not a grammatically correct thing."

"How do you know that?" Ginny asked.

"I... Don't." Bill admitted. "But I know who does! Why don't we just ask-" he stopped himself just in time. Mentioning or talking to Percy would be strongly not recommended the whole break, Fred knew. The punishment seemed harsh, but Percy had said some very harsh things. The punishment fits the crime. Bill coughed awkwardly and glared at Percy, who was still resolutely staring at his plate. "Erm, never mind." Bill said.

Fred noticed that George had been quiet for a while, so he turned the conversation to Quidditch so that his twin could participate. As this they all (except Percy obviously) laughed and talked and tried to make George feel like he belonged, Fred smiled. This was how things were supposed to be, his whole family together again. He still hadn't quite gotten over his disappointment that nothing auspicious and wonderful had happened, but he knew he would. Eventually. For now though, Fred was content to enjoy dinner with his family. His whole family.

Saturday 1 April, 1989, 12:45 am (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom 

Emmett lay awake for many hours the night of his homecoming. He lay awake into the wee hours of the next morning as well. This wasn't because he was too worried or nervous or excited to sleep, like he had been the night before. He simply wasn't tired. Even when he and Fred had gone to bed at ten o'clock, Emmett had felt like it was only four in the afternoon. 

Fred. Emmett rolled over in his bed to look at his twin, who was fast asleep on the other side of the room, breathing deeply. He still couldn't quite believe it. He was home, with his family. With his loving father and doting mother, and five amazing brothers (including his identical twin, who would have thought?) and the sweetest little sister. It felt just like one of his dreams, but he was sure it was real. He definitively couldn't have just imagined magic of Quidditch or any of that. And his stomach still felt full of the most delicious meal he had ever had in his life. 

It was real. Emmett knew- wait, no. That name no longer fit him. He had a home. He was here to stay. He had a family. He felt safe and happy for the first time he could remember. Emmett was a scared, lonely, foster kid from Texas, but George was a safe, happy kid living in England with his family. He could no longer call himself Emmett. He was George.

And with that thought, George settled into his bed and let sleep take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I agree with George. Soccer is boring. So are most sports. Except Quidditch obviously.
> 
> Fun fact: the Weasley's dinner conversation is based on actual events. I participated in a discussion much like that one while having dinner with my family.
> 
> In case it was unclear, I hate squash. Maybe I'm the odd one out with that opinion, but... It's just icky. Carrot cake is okay if the pieces of carrot are few and far between. In my opinion the only vegetable that belongs in dessert is pumpkin. I'm a sucker for pumpkin pie and pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. 
> 
> Enough about me. Did you like the chapter? Do you agree or disagree that squash is gross and soccer is boring? Or am I just crazy? Please comment your thoughts and feedback!


	10. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * grabs axe * 
> 
> * chops hole in the wall *
> 
> * sticks face through hole *
> 
> * smiles *
> 
> I'm baaaaaack!!!!

Saturday 1 April, 1989, 7:39 am (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

"George! George!"

Someone was yelling, that was certain. Yelling very loudly for such an ungodly hour. But, who was yelling? And about what exactly?

"GEORGE! Wake up sleepyhead!" Came the voice again. It sounded oddly familiar... Oh! George, that was his name wasn't it? 

George was abruptly jolted from his dreamy half asleep state when someone jumped on top of him, shouting his name loudly. He shoved the person off his bed with a satisfying thump and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Fred popped up next to his face and grinned. "Good morning Georgie!" He said loudly.

"Whaddayouwant," George grumbled. 

"Happy Birthday!!!" Fred seized George's arm and dragged him out of the warm cozy bed. That got him awake. 

"Birthday?" he asked. 

"Yeah!" Said Fred, "The first of April!"

Well who would have thought? "What a coincidence," George said, "the people I lived with in America guessed that April first was my birthday. I never would have thought they guessed right!"

"That's funny," Fred agreed. The two boys sat on the floor for a moment before Fred grabbed his brother's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Well, come on then," he said cheerily, "mum's made breakfast, and we've got presents!!"

Fred practically flew down the stairs with George struggling to keep up with him. As they descended, George was assaulted by loads of delicious smells. He hadn't realized breakfast could smell this good. George stopped for a moment just before entering the kitchen to take in the sight. The table was groaning under the weight of piles of bacon, platters of scrambled eggs, jugs of milk and orange juice, and stacks of buttered toast. 

Molly was supervising the last of the bacon as it floated from the frying pan to the table. George gaped at the floating bacon. Fred laughed at him, so George whacked him on the arm. Arthur was sitting at the table drinking tea and reading a newspaper called the Daily Prophet. And as his father turned the page, George could have sworn the people in the photograph on the front page were moving. Ron was trying to set the silverware while a butter knife chased him around the room, knocking on his head. Bill was wiggling his wand at said butter knife. He caught George's eye and smirked. Percy was at the table with his head in his arms, looking decidedly miserable. Ginny was standing next to Bill and laughing at Ron.

As the twins stood at the foot of the stairs, Charlie came stumbling down, fully dressed but bleary eyed and messy haired. "Morning," he yawned as he passed. Just before entering the kitchen he stopped abruptly, turned around, and went back to examine Fred and George. "Oh, right," he nodded after staring at then for a moment, "there's two of you now." Then he continued on as it nothing strange had happened.

Fred followed after him. "You didn't actually forget, did you?" He wondered. "I didn't think-"

"I was that forgettable." George said without even thinking about it. Fred grinned at him. 

Charlie blinked at them for a moment. "Yes," he said, "no, wait- ugh it's too ear-ear-early for this." He yawned again. 

"Its like, eight o'clock almost, " George sniggered. Really not that early at all.

"Yeah, but-" Charlie yawned a third time and couldn't seem to think how to finish his sentence.

Soon the whole family was seated at the table, and George discovered that the breakfast tasted just as good as it looked. Once Charlie had fully woken up, which took some time, he explained that the eggs were fresh from the Weasleys very own chickens. George had to admit, they did seem... Fresher somehow. 

"Mum," Fred asked, "can we open our presents now, please please please please!?"

Molly looked around at their empty plates. "Alright then," she said and with a wave of her wand, all the dishes rose from the table and floated gently to the sink, where they began to scrub themselves. Then Molly herded the whole family into the parlor, where a small pile of presents awaited. 

"These are for us?" George asked incredulously as Fred sat on the floor next to the pile. 

" 'course they are, " Fred said, "it's our birthday, isn't it?"

"Yeah," George said in an undertone, settling himself down beside his twin, "but I've... Never really had... Presents... Before..."

"Oh," Fred said. George instantly felt awkward and embarrassed. "Sorry," he said quickly.

"Its okay, " Fred assured him. Then he smiled. "And it doesn't matter, 'cos we've got presents now!"

After a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday" (George noticed that Percy wasn't singing) the twins tore into the pile of brightly wrapped packages. George was delighted by all of it. 

There was a comic book from Ron entitled "The Adventures of Martin Miggs: the Mad Muggle". Ron assured him that it was quite good, despite the mildly creepy image on the cover. George supposed it could be fun to read about muggles from a wizard's perspective.

From Charlie there was a tiny wooden dragon that flew in circles around George's head and breathed tiny spurts of flame. It appeared to have been hand carved and painted. Fred, who had also received a toy dragon, confided to George that Charlie was obsessed with dragons.

Bill proudly presented a pair of cheap looking teacups, and he used his wand to fill them with tea. George took a sip to be polite and spilled tea all down his front when the cup pinched him hard on the nose. He found it hilarious and dearly wished he could give it to a bully like Pedro or Eric.

The next package, from Ginny, contained a box of something called "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans". Charlie warned that the box literally contained every flavor, and Fred added that he'd eaten a booger flavored one once.

The twins received a frog spawn kit from their father, and Fred seemed delighted. Molly's smile became forced, and she told Fred that this batch of frog spawn had better not end up in anybody's bed or else.

Fred and George had been saving the biggest present for last, so they were a bit disappointed to discover that it was a bundle of clothes. George was happy about the thick purple sweater with a large yellow letter "G" on the front, and Fred was happy to get his own Weasley sweater back.

Just as everyone thought all the presents had been opened, Arthur pulled out a long, thin package wrapped in paper. Fred gasped. "Is that what I think it is?" He wondered.

George took the package with trembling hands. He carefully tore off the paper and out tumbled a shiny new broomstick. Fred picked it up and ran his fingers along the handle. "Whoa," he breathed. George read the name engraved on the handle of the broom, Cleansweep Five.

"That's the newest model!" Said Charlie. Bill whistled in awe. Ron reached forward and brushed the handle reverently.

George looked tentatively up at his parents. "This must have cost a lot." He said.

"Consider it eight years worth of birthday presents." Arthur said fondly. "As long as you promise to let me give it a go."

"Sure! " George promised. Then he turned to his mother hopefully. "Oh, mum, can I go outside and try it please?" 

"Its your birthday, dear." Molly said. "Do whatever you like."

Fred and George both gave a cheer. George stood up only to slip on something concealed beneath the piles of wrapping paper. He reached down and picked up a small package. "Hey look," he called to Fred, "there's one more present, from Percy! And it's addressed to both of us!"

"Open it, I guess..." Fred said. George tore of the wrappings to reveal a small green book, entitled Quidditch Through the Ages. 

"Neat!" George exclaimed. He hurried over and hugged Percy, who seemed quite startled by the sudden contact. " Thanks, Percy! "

It took Percy a moment to find his voice. "You're welcome," he said uncomfortably, "Happy birthday, George." Percy's voice was scratchy, and George noticed that his older brother's eyes were rimmed with red. The older boy looked around hopefully. "Does this mean you're speaking to me again?" He asked. 

Molly suddenly became very interested in cleaning up the wrapping paper on the floor. The rest of the family seemed to find the floor and ceiling fascinating. 

"Is someone speaking?" Fred asked coldly.

"No," Bill shook his head.

"I didn't hear anything." Charlie growled, glaring at Percy.

"I'm sorry!" Percy burst out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!" Everyone ignored him. Percy's hands curled tight into fists. "Why won't you listen to me? Mum?" Molly was concentrating very hard on cleaning up. Percy knelt next to her with tears brimming in his brown eyes. "Please, mum," he said, his voice trembling, "Please listen to me! Acknowledge that I exist!" She turned her head away from him, but George thought he saw tears in her eyes. "Fine!" Percy exclaimed, openly crying now. "Fine, then! So much for a family reunion!" He threw up his hands and stormed up the stairs. George heard a door slam shut on the first floor landing. 

There was a very pregnant silence. 

"What's going on?" George demanded. 

Fred cleared his throat loudly. "I er, just remembered," he said, " I've got a present for you, George, only I left it in our room. Hang on, let me go and get it." He dashed off. 

No one answered the question, so George asked it again. "Well, er," Arthur began, "you see-"

He was interrupted by Fred returning with something concealed behind his back. "Its not much of a present," he said, "as it already belongs to you, but..." Fred held up a slightly worn stuffed lion. "His name's Gryff," he said. "And he's, well, he's yours."

George took the toy from his brother and hugged it to his chest. Somehow that just felt... right. He was instantly attached to Gryff, which he supposed was because they already knew each other, from years ago. "I've got one just like it, named Godric." Fred added.

"Thank you, " George managed to say. "I'm sorry, I didn't get you a present because I didn't know you existed until two days ago."

"That's okay, " Fred said. He crossed the room to hug his twin. "Having you here is enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. This chapter is quite a bit shorter than usual, but the next one should be out fairly soon. Maybe... Y'all know I'm super unreliable writer, right? And if you didn't know, now you know, Mr. President.
> 
> Many kudos and a shout out if you can tell me where I quoted that last sentence from. 
> 
> Anywho, did you like the chapter? Please leave kudos and comments for a very lonely quarantined author!


	11. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!

Over the next several days, George asked around, trying to figure out what the deal was with everyone ignoring Percy.

Molly said it was unimportant and shooed George out of the kitchen.

Bill stared very hard at the sky and refused to make eye contact. He began talking very loudly about the weather.

Charlie looked positively murderous. "Who's Percy?" He asked.

Fred would give no explanation other than that Percy was a stuck up git, as well as several other things it would be best not to repeat.

Ron became mysteriously deaf each time Percy was mentioned. 

Ginny just shrugged.

Arthur explained that "Percy said some extremely horrible things to Bill and Charlie, so he's being punished." When George asked what Percy had said exactly, Arthur's hands started fidgeting and he looked askance. "You needn't concern yourself with it." He said, and then began talking loudly about his battery collection.

George realised that this line of questioning was getting him nowhere, and fast. While he had managed to learn many interesting things about the wizarding world, including the circumstances of his kidnapping, George still knew next to nothing about what he had begun to call "the Percy Incident" in his mind. So, he concluded, there was only one thing left to do. It was time to talk to Percy.

Wednesday 05 April, 1989, 1:12 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

Percy was fine. One hundred percent completely and totally fine. He was just dandy. It wasn't like he spent a ton of time with his brothers anyway, so this wasn't a huge change of scene. But usually be could engage in conversation with someone if he felt like it. Now, though...

As Percy sat in his room, the lonely silence pressed down on him. Enveloping him. Suffocating him with its tentacles of misery. He could hear his brothers and sister laughing and shouting outside, and smell his mother's cooking, but the sensations seemed muted, unreal. They reached him as if they had to cross dimensions to do so. 

It was a very effective punishment, the silent treatment. Much more effective than detention or loss of house points or a missed meal. It ensured that Percy had plenty of time to wallow in regret. Plenty of time to know he would give anything to get his hands on a time turner, to erase that one minute of his life.

Alas, such a thing was impossible. Percy knew it with every cell in his logical, well ordered, extremely lonely mind. Lonely, because the only person who'd spoken to him at all in the last five days was George. Sometimes it seemed that George was the only person who remembered that Percy existed. Percy was sure George didn't know why Percy was being punished. If he did, he'd surely be glaring at Percy quite as much as Fred was. 

Someone was coming upstairs. The footsteps were slow and quiet, as if the person didn't want to be heard. Whoever it was stopped on the landing outside Percy's bedroom. Someone knocked on the door. Percy froze, a bubble of hope swelling inside him. Was the silent treatment finally over? "Come in," he called, his voice a bit hoarse. 

The door swung open and in came George, fidgeting with the cuffs of his bright purple sweater. The bubble in Perry's chest felt as though it had got a puncture.

"Hi," said George with an awkward half wave.

"You don't want to talk to me." Percy said. He lay down on his bed with his hands behind his head. If anybody had a right to pretend Percy didn't exist, it was George.

"Yes I do." George said.

Percy scoffed. "You shouldn't."

"Why?" George asked. "Percy, you're my brother. If I'm supposed to be ignoring you, I think I have a right to know why."

"You're happier not knowing," Percy said. He really didn't want to have to be the one to explain.

George glared at him. "No, I'm not," he said. "I need to know."

"You'll hate me if I tell you." Percy said.

"That's not for sure." George shot back. "But I will hate you if you don't tell me what you did, because the suspense is killing me. So you might as well take the chance, right?"

Percy said nothing.

"Please?" George begged, kneeling on the floor and making puppy dog eyes.

"Fine." said Percy.

Friday 24 March, 1989, 8:03 am (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, United Kingdom

Breakfast was interrupted, as it always was, by hundreds of owls of all different species swooping into the great hall. Percy wasn't expecting post, so it surprised him when Errol landed in front of him, carrying a large package. Written on the package in crooked handwriting, we're the words "to Percy, from Fred."

"What've you got there, Percy?" asked Oliver, leaning over Percy's shoulder to get a better look.

"I dunno," Percy frowned. He turned the lumpy package over, examining it.

"It's not your birthday, is it?" asked a his friend Katrina, who was sitting on his other side.

Percy shook his head. He noticed a letter tied to the package and carefully opened it to read:

Percy,  
Mum botched a potion yesterday. It splattered all over me, Ron, Ginny, mum, and the kitchen. Then dad came home right then and got covered in it too. I got some in my mouth - it tasted like someone mixed chicken poop with rotten fruit and set the whole thing on fire. That's sort of what it looks like too.

Anyway, I thought you and Bill and Charlie would like a taste of all the fun we have at home without you. If I've set the timer right, you'll get just that we soon as you finish -

But Percy never found out what he was supposed to finish, for right at that moment, the package exploded. An inexplicable amount of putrid smelling brownish green goop sprayed all over Percy, Oliver, Katrina, and half of Gryffindor table. Everyone who hadn't been splattered burst into roaring laughter, and so did many of the students who were covered in goop. Percy did not join in. It seemed as though The Whole School was looking at him. Laughing at him. 

The teachers cleaned it all up quickly enough. Percy stormed out of the great hall as soon as he was clean. His face, neck, and ears were burning, and tears were streaming freely down his face. He'd never been so humiliated in his entire life. He felt someone grab his arm and he whirled around to see Bill and Charlie.

"Its okay, Perce," Charlie grinned, "I got hit too. I got a letter from Fred about a botched potion. Was that what that was?"

Percy didn't trust himself to speak.

"What's the matter, little bro?" Bill asked. 

"I HATE HIM!!" Percy exploded. "I HATE Fred! That stupid little git thinks he's so funny- he humiliated me in front of the whole school!"

"Take a chill pill," said Bill As he reached out to grab Percy.

Percy swatted Bill's hand away. "No!!" He screamed. "No, I will not take a chill pill! I am sick and tired of being the subject of Fred's stupid pranks! I thought I could get away from him when I came to school, but nooo! He sends me liver flavored fudge and spontaneously combusting quills and exploding goop! I never get a break!" He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, and then continued. 

"And next week, there'll be two of them, and I'm willing to bet that George'll be just as horrible, just as much of a prankster! And then they'll make my life twice as miserable! I wish George wasn't coming home! I wish Fred had been kidnapped along with George! In fact, I wish that the Death Eaters had killed them both! They would have been doing me a favor! And it would have served Fred right, the little jerk!!! "

Both older boys had gone pale. They stared at Percy in shock. "You don't mean that." Charlie said, his voice dangerously low.

"YES I DO!!" Percy shouted. "I MEANT EVERY WORD! MY LIFE WOULD BE A THOUSAND TIMES BETTER IF FRED AND GEORGE WERE BOTH DEAD!!! BECAUSE I HATE THEM!!!!!"

Charlie looked about ready to punch Percy. "Fine then." Bill said in disgust. He grabbed Charlie and pulled him away. Percy watched his brothers' retreating backs. The chilly March air began to cool him off, and he realized what he had said. 

"Wait!" He cried. "Wait up! Bill- Charlie- I'm sorry!" he stepped in front of them to get their attention. They walked right past him as if he were invisible. 

The silent treatment had begun.

*******

Percy tried to apologize. He followed Bill around for hours, trying to remind his brother of his existence. Even when Percy accidentally tripped Bill and sent him sprawling, the older boy got up and kept walking as if nothing had happened.

He approached Charlie while Charlie was hanging out with his friends. Surely he would acknowledge Percy in front of them, to avoid awkward questions? "Charlie!" Percy called out to his brother as he walked down the corridor towards the knot of sixth years. "Charlie, can we talk?"

No answer came, even though a few of Charlie's friends were looking at him curiously. Percy tugged on his brother's sleeve. "Charles, this is important," he whined. Still Charlie ignored him.

"Er... Charlie?" said a Hufflepuff girl with bubblegum pink hair. "I think your little brother is trying to talk to you..."

Charlie yanked his sleeve out of Percy's grasp. "I see no brother of mine." He growled. Percy turned and ran, and didn't stop until he was safe in a bathroom to cry away his sorrow.

Rumors started flying through the school. Charlie Weasley was pretending his little brother didn't exist, and Bill was in on it. Percy Weasley had tried to kill Fred Weasley after the latter sent the former a box of exploding goop. Percy Weasley mailed himself a bomb made out of a botched potion to get attention. Percy hated Quidditch so much, he had tried to blow up the whole Gryffindor team so that the last game of the season would be canceled. The whole of Hogwarts was buzzing with those stories and others.

Nobody knew exactly what Percy Weasley had done, only that it was horrible enough that both his older brothers refused to acknowledge his existence. Poor Percy hated the way people watched him when they thought he wasn't looking and whispered behind their hands. Even Katrina and Oliver were hesitant to be seen with him. But the worst part wasn't the stares or the whispers or the loneliness.

The worst part was that Percy knew that no matter how sorry he was, he deserved it. 

Wednesday 05 April, 1989, 1:29 pm (Coordinated Universal Time)  
Ottery St Catchpole, United Kingdom

"Well there you have it." Percy said. "That's why, according to this whole family, I no longer exist. Go on, hate me."

George frowned. "Did you mean what you said?" He asked. "About me and Fred?"

"No," Percy said bitterly. "But I said it."

"Are you really truly sorry?" George asked gently.

"Yes!" Percy exclaimed. "I'm more sorry for saying that than I've ever been sorry for anything in my life! I don't want you dead, or Fred, and I'm glad you're home.I would give anything to take it back." 

"Well, then, I forgive you." George said.

Percy gaped. He stared at the younger boy as if he were a ghost. He must have heard wrong. Surely forgiveness could not come so easily from a bot he barely knew...? Or perhaps it was the fact that they barely knew each other that made it so easy for George to forgive him... "Wh-what?" Percy choked out. "You- what!?"

"I forgive you." George said again. 

"I- b-b-b-but... But why?" Percy asked.

George considered that for a moment. He scooted closer to Percy on the bed and leaned on his shoulder. "Because..." he said, "life's too short to waste it holding a grudge." 

Percy put an arm around George and smiled. "I guess that means I should forgive Fred?"

"Yeah," George agreed with a laugh. And in that moment Percy was so happy, he felt he could do anything- even forgive that little twerp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Hope this answered all your Percy related questions! Speaking of Percy, autocorrect is the devil and it kept changing his name to Perry. I think I fixed all the accidental changes, but if you spot one please tell me. 
> 
> Can anyone guess who Charlie's Hufflepuff's friend is?
> 
> Please feel free to comment and leave kudos.


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